


Aguamenti

by Lady_Marineton



Series: Professors!Drarry [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, Fluff, I know it's a lot of tags but it's a long fic you guys, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Self-Harm, Sequel, Smut, Werewolf Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-02-28 10:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 73,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Marineton/pseuds/Lady_Marineton
Summary: /!\ Sequel to "Charms" /!\In a day's time, Draco's life turned upside down. As his relationship with Harry struggles to grow past the recent events, their lives are threatened by a new menace.





	1. Vent

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Aguamenti](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/479989) by Lady_Marineton. 



> I'm still french, I still don't have a beta-reader, so mistakes will be made ! Thank you for sticking around in spite of that.
> 
> This was supposed to be a self-indulgent piece of fluff because I put them through hell in "Charms", but my brain is a freaking drama queen, so here's the result...
> 
> Enjoy !

 

Harry opened his eyes and focused really hard to keep from retching : despite years of practice, his body never fully got used to apparating. His eyelids immediately tried to close again : the sky above the Wiltshire had the bad taste to not reflect the more than somber mood of the day, and the morning sun blinded him. He felt Draco's arm pull away from his own before he could even make out the surroundings. The blond man was now heading on his own towards the little graveyard across the road.

 

Harry knew the day would be painful for the former Slytherin, but he couldn't help but sigh at his partner's coldness. It'd been a week. A week since Draco had been sequestered. A week since Harry had tried to rescue him. A week since they'd heard of Lucius' death. A week since Draco fell asleep crying in his arms. A week since he'd stopped showing any emotion at all. He didn't ask Harry to come to the funeral with him, but the DADA professor decided to support him, no matter how rude the other man had been to him the past few days.

 

The former Gryffindor hurried up at the sight of the swarm of journalists rushing towards the Malfoy heir. The latter just passed through them without answering any question, but Harry knew it'd only take one wrong word to get him to throw hexes right and left. He caught up with him in a few strides, battling his way to the graveyard's entrance ; Draco went in without looking back, but Harry took the time to turn to face the reporters :

“If any one of you steps through the gates, I swear I'll take you back out myself... And it applies to beetles too,” he added as he noticed Rita Skeeter in the crowd – she just glowered at him.

He took the disapproving mutters as a confirmation that he was taken seriously, and went back on his way on the little alley lined with tombstones. He finally caught sight of the group gathered for the funeral on his left, and his heart sank. Four people. Only four people were waiting for the ceremony to start : Draco, Narcissa, the mortician who was here to officiate the memorial service, and – Harry was surprised – Andromeda Tonks. He was sad to witness just how much Draco and his mother were now cut from the rest of society : no one wanted to pay their last respects to a Death Eater, nor to be there for his family.

He stepped closer in silence and took place next to Draco. Narcissa nodded discretely to the mortician, who began the ceremony. His voice was monotonous, grim, and the eulogy was reduced to Lucius' biography. No emotion, just a recitation of the major events in the man's life. Not a word about his deeds as a Death Eater, only a vague mention of “the bad choices that eventually lead him to his doom”. Nothing on the fact that he'd chosen to go, either ; the autopsy results were unequivocal : Lucius starved himself to death in Azkaban, three years only before his release.

 

Draco didn't react to the news ; he didn't react to anything, this week : Minerva granted him as many days off as he needed, and since they'd come back from the Ministry he only ever got out from his bedroom to go visit his mother. Harry played along, asking Kreacher to serve Draco's meals directly in his room to spare him the confrontation with the outside world. He also went to keep him company as often as he could, but their time together wasn't exactly pleasant : Draco refused to talk about recent events but he was more irritable than ever. Of course, Harry couldn't blame him : he just gritted his teeth and waited for better days. The day after they came back Harry had found him cutting himself next to three smoking howlers' remains laying on the bed. Since then, he started picking up all of his hate mail to open it himself in private, along with his own. The last week had been particularly challenging.

 

Silence fell in the small graveyard, and Harry came back to reality. The man had gone quiet and, with a flick of his wand, he initiated the coffin's descent to the depths of the Earth.

“No. Wait !”

Harry jumped ; Draco's voice sounded unfamiliar. Or maybe it just came from the fact that he didn't hear it a lot today. The blond man was shaking, and he slowly stepped closer to the pit in which the coffin had stopped sinking. He kneeled and pointed his wand at the red roses wreath that lay on the dark wood. Each petal started growing and all of the flowers turned iridescent multicolour shades. Harry couldn't help but smile : peacock feathers, that's what was missing from Lucius Malfoy's funerals.

Draco came back next to Harry without looking at anyone and, to his great surprise, took his hand. The DADA professor could feel his lover's grip tighten as the coffin sank in the ground, but he suffered in silence : he didn't want to remove it, and hug Draco to comfort him would most likely embarrass the latter. Consequently, he did exactly what he'd been doing for a week : he didn't move a muscle and he waited. His hand got numb as earth filled the pit over the coffin, then he lost all sensation in his fingers when the heavy stone was placed to seal the grave.

 

The memorial service was over, the mortician had left, but Draco still hadn't moved. Worried for the man he loved as well as for his own hand, Harry turned towards him and carefully stroked his arm with his free hand.

“Will you be okay ?” He tried.

Draco stared at him blankly before he looked down at their still interlaced hands. Only then did he seem to realise how tight his grip was ; he let go at once, and Harry had to stretch his fingers to try and regain some sensation.

“Draco ?” he insisted softly.

“I... It's okay,” he lied, still staring at Harry's whitened hand. “I'm okay," he repeated as he looked back up into his eyes.

He seemed more sure this time, but it felt like he was mostly trying to convince himself.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Narcissa and her sister ending their conversation, then Andromeda coming near them.

“Hello Harry, dear,” she greeted him with a hug.

“Hi, Andromeda.”

“Draco, sweetheart, I'm so sorry for your loss,” she added as she grabbed the blond man by the shoulders.

Draco looked questioningly at Harry. That might have been the first time anyone ever called him “sweetheart”. Harry opened his mouth, but Andromeda was quicker :

“Of course, you have no idea who I am. I'm your aunt Andromeda.”

“I figured,” Draco answered coldly. “You look like her...”

A shadow fell over the woman's face :

“I know, Draco. I'm sorry you were unlucky enough to know her.”

Narcissa, who was watching them from afar, frowned in silence.

“Anyway, and as I was telling your mother, I think it's time to move past the old grudges and try to be a family again. I only know too well the loneliness one feels after the loss of a loved one, and I want you to know that you're welcome at my place anytime.”

Draco nodded rigidly.

“And, Harry, dear,” she added, finally letting go of her nephew, “Teddy's asking after you. You know, I think he saw that they were talking about you in the newspaper and he's worried.”

“I miss him too,” Harry confessed. “I'll visit soon, I promise.”

“What about next Saturday ? You can have tea with us.”

“Alright, Dromeda, I'll be there.”

“And, Draco,” she kept going, “It'd be a pleasure to have you too.”

Once more, Draco nodded silently. Satisfied, Andromeda went back to say goodbye to her sister before she stepped out of the small graveyard.

“I'll wait for you outside,” Harry whispered to Draco before he followed the same way.

He didn't want to face the journalists again, but leaving the Malfoys to pay their last respects as a family felt like the right thing to do.

 

He'd barely reached the gates when he heard numerous cameras flashing.

“Merlin's beard, this is a funeral ! Can't you show some decency ?”

He exploded in spite of himself ; he couldn't stand the idea of Draco and his mother being harassed like this on such a day.

Truth be told, he suspected the photographer's target was the alleged new couple they formed with Draco, but that thought made him feel guilty. The previous Monday, they'd faced the journalists together at the Ministry. They arrived in the Atrium holding hands, but didn't answer any personal question ; they just told Draco's abduction and announced Lucius' death. The Auror Department had filled in the blanks during their press conference the very evening but, despite the detailed account the journalists had got, a lot of them wrote more about the relationship between the two professors than about the case – some of them even made things up to make their articles catchier.

And Harry was feeling guilty, because he should have known that this would be their reaction if Draco and him appeared together. The two of them had wanted to face things together, but they didn't really think it through. They'd been buried under rude letters and howlers for a week, and Harry felt like he was reliving his public coming-out. And yet, the mail Malfoy was getting was way more violent than his own. Since Wednesday he was the one opening it, and after only four days he started to understand how Draco could be so depressed and filled with self-loath that he'd resort to harming himself.

Deep down, he knew that the journalists weren't responsible for how stupid people could be : no article called for homophobia, very few had questioned Draco's sincerity, but Harry needed someone to blame. His anger needed to be catalysed, and right now they were a perfect target.

The reporters might have felt his wrath, because after a few shy questions they gave up trying to communicate with him at all. After a few minutes of silent wait, Harry felt Draco's hand rest on his shoulder as he told him he was ready to go. They disapparated without further ado, leaving a bunch of disappointed journalists on the sunny street.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

They crossed Hogsmeade silently, and it's only when they got to Hogwarts' deserted grounds that Harry tried to break the ice :

“So... You met Andromeda. What about tea with us next Saturday ?”

Draco turned to face him, looking appalled :

“Seriously, Potter ? Do you really think I'm about tea right now ?”

“Not right now, of course, but I...”

“Please shut up...” Draco interrupted dryly.

“Oi,” Harry heckled him, grabbing his arm to get him to stop walking, “I'm doing my best, okay ? And I know you're sad, and lost, and you don't know how to react to all this, but I'm not sure it really helps to scorn me like you do. You don't want to talk about what happened, but apparently you won't talk about anything else either, what am I supposed to do with that ?!”

“You can start by leaving me be, it'll be simpler for everyone,” Draco spat as he got back on his way.

“No,” Harry simply said, following him, “because four days later the vision of you cutting yourself is still engraved in my mind, and I won't let it happen again. If I leave you, how can I know you won't do even worse ?”

“So that's it,” Draco said, furious, as he turned back, “you feel compelled to watch me ?! You're babysitting me to keep your conscience clear ? You know what ? Fuck off ! I'm freeing you of your obligations, Saint Potter. You can go, I don't want your pity.”

“That's not what I meant, for crying out loud !”

Harry was seriously getting angry now. He knew he was being awkward, but after a week being both Draco's and their detractors' punching bag he'd reached his breaking point. He tried to explain more clearly :

“I love you. Okay ? Of course I won't let anyone hurt you ! The problem is : _you're_ the one hurting yourself, and I don't know how to prevent it, except by clinging to you like a freaking shadow all day long ! And so what if you end up hating my guts, so what if “ _moron_ ” becomes my second name, as long as you're safe and sound ? Is that clear ?”

“But you _are_ a fucking moron,” Draco cringed. “You still believe you have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, but that's not what I'm asking of you ! I don't want you to handle my howlers, or to defend me to the journalists, or to make sure I don't have to leave my bloody room ! I can do all of this on my own, I don't need your permission, nor your help ! What I want is for you to stop treating me like I'm some fragile little thing. I want you to yell at me whenever we disagree. I want you to tell me when someone insults you in a letter. I want you to laugh while calling me a cunt whenever I bitch about random people. I want you to fuck me...”

Harry felt a twitch in his lower belly and looked around involuntarily to check that no one could have heard that last bit. Fortunately, they were all alone. Malfoy sighed loudly to get him to focus on the argument.

“I... I don't know what to say to you,” Harry said. “I wanted to be there for you... What with your father, and the investigation, and your coming-out, I... I thought you needed some time.”

“You were wrong,” Draco declared with lightnings in his eyes. “I need normality.”

“Hey, I invited you to tea, that was pretty normal...” Harry defended himself while running a nervous hand through his own hair.

“Not when we're coming back from my father's funeral ! I mean, read the room ! Merlin, how can you be this dumb...”

Harry stared at him for a while – Draco had rolled his eyes so much in the last minutes that the other man feared he'd get stuck like this ; try as he might, he couldn't think of any answer that wouldn't be ridiculed. Might as well give up :

“I'll leave you be for a while. Come see me whenever you stop being sick of me.”

“No,” the former Slytherin answered categorically. “Right now I want you.”

“What ?!” Harry choked : the more time he spent with Draco, the less he understood his reactions.

“Do you want me ?” The latter clearly asked.

If he was being honest, Harry was quite troubled since the “ _I want you to fuck me_ ” part...

“I... Yes. But...”

“All right. Don't leave me, then. Come on...”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Harry remained confused on the whole way to the Charms professor's bedroom. What just happened ? He didn't get this man. He loved him, he desired him, but he really didn't get him. He refrained from reminding him that they just buried his father ; that was probably not the best prelude to what they were about to do. He just shut up and watched him move through the corridors, dressed in long black robes – sober but elegant.  
It'd been a week since they'd last shared intimacy. Harry was aware that it wasn't that long, particularly compared to his celibacy periods, but it was their personal record, except from the weeks they'd been apart for the holidays. It was a fact : they were physically attracted to each other. Even more than that : they were unable to resist each other ; a single gesture, a loaded look could start everything. Suffice to say that a whole week together without touching each other had created a great deal of frustration.

They got in the room, and Draco immediately started unbuttoning his own robes. Harry, still dumbfounded, looked at him with hunger as he did so.

“What, do you think you're at the cabaret, Potter ? Strip off, I'm not doing everything by myself...”

Harry complied, slightly shaking himself out of apathy. He couldn't look away from his partner, revelling in every one of his hurried but delicate movements. Draco still seemed angry, but his eyes radiated indecency ; Harry thought to himself that in another era he could have been charged for public lewdness for this look alone. And he was the one on whom it was set, right now : he was the one it saw waddle laboriously to get out of his clothes, the one it witnessed struggle to keep balance as he succeeded in taking off his own briefs on one foot... Harry acknowledged that he didn't have the Malfoy heir's natural grace.

“It's like looking at a troll who just learned to walk,” Draco sighed.

But he didn't seem to take offence as he stepped closer to press up his naked body against Harry's, overwhelming him with a heat wave emanating from every inch of their skins that were touching. Harry shivered when his lover kissed his neck ; Merlin, he'd missed that mouth... The slightest hot breath made the hair on his neck stand up, and he could have sworn he was feeling each and every one of them. Pretty soon, the touch of the lips mutated into nibbling, going from his earlobes to to his collarbone, then seizing more firmly the tender flesh of the neck to suck it eagerly. Harry tilted his head sideways to provide full access to him, and expressed his satisfaction with a hoarse moan as he stroked the blond hair with one hand. The other one was gently massaging Draco's perfect arse, but it didn't divert the Charms professor from his endeavour. His teeth were digging more and more deeply into the former Gryffindor's skin, who eventually had to push him back softly when it started aching.

Draco stared down at him for a minute, then after a quick kiss on the lips he pushed down on his shoulders to get him to kneel. Harry frowned at the silent authority his partner was mustering, but the grey eyes set on him turned him on way more than it should have. So he started obediently kissing Draco's lower abdomen, then extended the caress to his thin white thighs – on the few stretch marks that he now knew were due to the monthly transformations of the werewolf – before he went back up to the main object of his desire. He was about to take his time as a payback for Malfoy's tyranny, but the latter ordered in a cold voice :

“Take it.”

“What ?” Harry said, not used to receiving such direct commands.

“Suck my cock, Potter,” the Charms professor clarified without blinking.

Why did he have to be so fucking hot ? Harry's pride urged him to rebel, but the monster holed up in his underbelly screamed at him to play along. Could Draco see how delightfully intoxicated he was by the situation ? In any case, the duel between reason and passion in Harry's head didn't last long, as the latter prevailed without difficulty and he quickly found himself engulfing the expecting cock. Malfoy let out a relieved groan, and the numbness in Harry's mind intensified some more.

The lean fingers gripped his hair, but it was unnecessary : Harry's mouth came and went hungrily on the pale prick, letting it slide on his palate with every motion. His tongue emphasised the passage of the head, enclosing it and slightly holding it back each time it passed his lips, spreading a mix of spit and pre-cum over his chin at the same time. Harry felt voracious and completely debauched, but Draco's reactions to his stimulation confirmed to him that he didn't care one bit. He wanted to make him feel good, it was all that mattered at this moment.

Suddenly, the former Slytherin pinched his nipple and Harry felt like he was about to come. Fuck, he was so horny that the jolt of pleasure in his torso almost turned into an orgasm... He was pathetic, wasn't he ? His lover's mouth stretched into a satisfied smirk, and his ego took over. While he kept on working on Draco's cock, he slipped his right hand between the other man's cheeks to meticulously caress the small hole, careful not to get in. He looked up to watch Malfoy's reaction to the outrageous individual initiative, but the blond man – even if he looked confused for a second – regained the upper hand at once :

“What are you waiting for ? Go ahead...”

Harry didn't need to be told twice : after he copiously licked his own middle finger to lubricate it, he obeyed the order. Draco's muscles contracted in a spasm when Harry inserted the tip, and the former Gryffindor gave himself a mental high-five for successfully trying. He rapidly located the prostate, but didn't have much time to play with it : soon, his lover took him by the arm to help him up.

“I want to take you, Potter...” He whispered in his ear, biting his lobe on the way.

Harry didn't answer ; he was troubled to realise that it was what he wanted too : he didn't find it particularly unpleasant the previous time, but he'd never felt the urge to do it again ever since. But today, Draco was directing him, Draco was patronising him ; Draco was driving him mad with lust...

“Potter ?” The blond man asked to bring him back to Earth. “Do you want to ?”

“Yes,” the DADA professor exhaled.

“Say it,” Draco insisted.

“I... I want you to fuck me,” Harry said with a chill.

“Good...”

Draco shoved him towards the bed and grabbed the lube in his bedside cabinet. He then leant over the former Gryffindor – who'd lain on his back – just long enough to whisper :

“Not like that. Turn over...”

Harry felt a bit ridiculous as he knelt with his back to his lover, but Draco kissed his neck passionately before he pushed it down to encourage him to get on all fours. He sat next to him, covering his back with kisses as he was getting him ready for what came after with a nimble hand. The Chosen One was mad at himself every time he let out a moan : he'd craved Draco's touch, and his body rewarded the caress with great deals of endorphin. His pleasure intensified when he felt a second finger slip inside of him, then a third shortly after.

“Are you ready ?” Malfoy asked.

“Yeah, come in...” He almost begged, but he couldn't care less : he wanted him.

Draco penetrated him, and time stopped. Harry felt like he was about to explode with the mix of relief, mild pain and plenitude that flooded into him all at once. His lover was carefully sliding deeper inside of him, and suddenly he couldn't form any coherent thought anymore. Eventually, Draco pressed his chest against Harry's back and buried his nose in his sweat-drenched hair :

“Blimey, I missed your arse...”

“Charming,” Harry thought in silence – in such a position, he didn't want to give his partner an excuse to punish him for his sass. Draco started swinging, slowly, while gripping Harry's abdomen with one arm, and the enjoyment clearly took over the pain. In fact, the pain moved forward : Harry's cock was now severely expressing its eagerness. The former Gryffindor couldn't take it anymore : he shifted his weight on his left forearm and sought his cock with his other hand ; the touch was salutary : he immediately felt the pressure diminish in his crotch.

“No,” Draco stopped him by laying his own hand on Harry's. “ _I'll_ decide when you can come...”

Harry felt like screaming : the domination exercised by his boyfriend unleashed his desires, but not being able to relieve himself was going to drive him mad. Draco increased the pace – making Harry groan and forcing him to rest on both of his hands again in the process – and his breathing became loud and erratic ; he was about to come any minute now. The more palpable the Charms professor's fever got, the deeper Harry sinked into voluptuousness ; when Draco ultimately reached orgasm with a loud roar, the other man got desperate :

“Please,” he moaned.

At first, he thought that his lover's still jerky breathing had prevented him from hearing the plea, but soon the hand that was still resting on his prick got moving, freeing him from his deprivation in just a few seconds. Draco pressed his still trembling body against Harry's sweaty back as he was coming through his fingers. As soon as the former Slytherin pulled out, they both collapsed on the mattress as one, postponing any cleaning attempt.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

The following rest was too short for Harry's taste, though : five minutes later, Draco had gotten up without a word, had cleaned everything up with a flick of his wand, and he was now in the shower. Harry sighed, grabbing a tissue box to wash up roughly before he could, in turn, use the bathroom. He wasn't sure he understood everything that'd just happened. Fuck, he didn't even know whether Draco was mad at him or not. It was time for the day to end : this emotional limbo highly confused him. The blond man got out of the bathroom and Harry observed him for a while , still lying naked on the sheets.

“Are you okay ?” He asked eventually.

Draco, who was putting on a pair of trousers, straightened like he was surprised to find the DADA professor was still in his bedroom :

“Better,” he simply said as he kept on dressing up. "I needed to vent some of my anger."

“I saw that,” Harry commented.

“I don't recall you complaining about it,” Draco noted maliciously.

“Yeah, yeah, I know... What do you want to do this afternoon ?” Harry tried.

“I was leaving, actually. I have an appointment with my shrink.”

“What ? You didn't tell me !” Harry accused as he suddenly got up.

“ So ? Does it upset you ?” Malfoy asked with a drawl.

“No, it's just that... Well, maybe a little,” he ended up confessing before Draco's insisting stare. “It kinda upsets me that you didn't tell me about it.”

“Good. Keep your anger until tonight, I might be able to help you vent it...”

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

Harry wasn't upset anymore when Draco came back from his appointment. Too bad. They'd still had sex, though : at least in the meantime Harry wasn't getting on his nerves. If the former Slytherin was being honest, he knew that his boyfriend was doing his best considering the unusual situation they were facing, but he wished things hadn't changed so much between them. Talking to his therapist still lead him to admit that the presence of the DADA professor made him feel better ; but the latter didn't have to know that.

Once again Harry had fallen asleep next to him, while Draco was up late reading until he was knackered enough to prevent his bad thoughts from keeping him awake the whole night. The _Lumos_ he used didn't seem to bother the other man's slumber, since he hated complete darkness anyway. He confessed it to Draco after spending several nights nervously twisting and turning in his bed : he needed to see the moonlight shining through the window, if nothing else, to feel safe. Draco gave him shit about it, but he never closed his curtains again on a night that they were spending together. Potter was turning him into a bloody sentimentalist. He didn't like it when he put it like that, but on the other hand the numbing fog that was taking over his brains whenever he was in his presence was salutary. Harry was his forgetfulness potion.

Draco looked away from his book to observe his sleeping lover. Overwhelmed by a surge of affection at the sight of The Chosen One starting to drool on the pillow he was hugging, he gently brushed black hair strands off his forehead. No reaction.

“I love you,” he whispered.

It wasn't exactly brave to wait for Harry to be asleep to tell him, but courage had never been his best feature anyway.

“I heard that...” Harry mumbled in a sleepy voice.

Draco jumped and felt like all of his blood had flooded to his face ; he tried to weasel out of it :

“I know... It would be utterly absurd to speak to you if you can't...”

But he stopped talking : Potter, his eyes still closed, had cuddled up to him :

“I love you too, dummy.”

Draco smiled. He didn't retaliate : he'd have all the time to make him pay for that the following day.

 


	2. Not by chance

 

“Professor McGonagall ?” Draco called the next day. “May I have a minute of your time after lunch ?”

It was the first meal he'd been taking in the Great Hall since the tragic events, a week before. Most students looked at him curiously, but overall it was easier than he'd thought. He was just back to square one, nothing more ; just back to his first day as a professor. Well, through the dark and even outraged looks there were also some mocking winks, teasing nudges and knowing whispers, but Draco couldn't even bring himself to resent them : the teenager he'd been would have been way more disrespectful than that had he learned that two of his professors were romantically involved...

“Of course, professor Malfoy. Meet me in my office when you are finished.”

Draco nodded, and explained in a hushed voice when Potter looked at him questioningly :

“I'm going back to teaching.”

“You're what ?” Harry exclaimed. “But...”

“Later,” Draco interrupted sharply, “this is neither the time nor the place to discuss it.”

Harry shot him an annoyed look but restrained himself from lecturing him. Draco seized on some of their colleagues' amused expressions, and his irritation went up a notch.

 

 

Thirty minutes later, the Charms professor was settled in the Headmistress's office, trying not to let the former Headmasters' portraits distract him as they all had their eyes on him.

“You wish to go back to teaching starting tomorrow ?” McGonagall repeated, incredulous. “You know, professor Flitwick doesn't seem to be in a rush to leave us again... Truth be told,” she added in a hushed voice, “I think he's quite bored in retirement. He would be more than happy to keep filling in for you as long as it is necessary.”

“It's no longer necessary, professor. I need to keep my mind busy, and I feel ready.”

“I'm not sure about this,” the headmistress insisted. “This decision seems a bit rushed.”

“Is this your way of telling me you don't want me in this position anymore, Professor ?” Draco asked. “I know the parents' opinion is more unfavourable to me than ever, but I call on you to...”

“Professor Malfoy,” McGonagall interrupted him, “do you recall any occasion on which I might have left the public opinion influence one of my decisions ? If you think I'm willing to discharge you because of a handful of narrow-minded parents, you need to think again. I merely want to make sure that you are psychologically fit to handle your students.”

Draco slightly scowled : he was twenty-five and still being berated by his former teacher – just great. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape's portrait smirk at him.

“I'm ready,” he said in a confident tone. “I earned their respect at the beginning of the year, it won't be any different this time.”

“Very well. In this case, I'm going to notify professor Flitwick that there's no need for him to come back to the castle tonight.”

Draco stood up to get out, but something was bothering him :

“Professor ? Do you get a lot of hate mail ? Of howlers, about me, I mean.”

The Headmistress sighed before she answered in a tired voice, gazing at him over her glasses :

“I get howlers for a lot of reasons, Professor. I am not going to lie to you, you happen to be one of these reasons – a major one. But this goes with my position, and I'm willing to get twice the amount if it means that my students are educated by the most competent professors. And your competencies are worth the inconvenience, professor, be sure of that.”

Snape's portrait briefly rolled its eyes, but Dumbledore's, right beside it, smiled encouragingly at the Charms professor.

“Thank you very much, Professor,” the latter said while trying to remain stone-faced.

“And for crying out loud, would you please start calling me Minerva already ?”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

“Everything's going well,” Draco congratulated himself on his first day back. He'd taken the decision of giving five minutes to his students at the start of each class to ask him the questions they undoubtedly had about the recent events. Fortunately, five minutes pass quickly and none of the classes had enough time – or enough audacity – to ask about Harry. Draco then regained control of each of his lessons, and even lightened the mood with some bad jokes ; everything was fine.

The last period was the one he dreaded the most : seventh years. There were few students in that class, since it only included the ones who wanted – and were competent enough – to take the Charms N.E.W.T : even with the four houses combined, it meant about twenty students that year. The reason Draco was scared was one student in particular : Shae Hobbes, daughter of Malvina Hobbes. The same Malvina Hobbes that had been arrested a week prior for sequestering him and trying to send him to Azkaban. Draco hadn't run into the young girl ever since but he knew she'd kept attending classes, unlike the two Calvin's children who'd gone home to their family to cope with their parents' arrest.

Draco held his breath as he gave permission to this class to ask him anything, but Shae kept silent. She didn't say anything during the whole lesson, yet the professor's discomfort kept growing ; he knew they couldn't keep going like that, with Shae deliberately ignoring him and himself barely daring to look at her, let alone make her participate in the demonstrations. When the lesson came to an end, he'd made up his mind :

“Miss Hobbes, may I have a word, please ?”

The student's dark eyes looked up at him for the first time that day as the last of her classmates were leaving the room.

“Look,” she started as soon as they were alone, “I know what you want to talk to me about, and I swear I had no idea that they were planning anything like that. I... Just because she's my mum, it doesn't mean that I agree with all of her decisions...”

Draco raised an eyebrow :

“Don't you think I know that ? Of course I'm not blaming you for anything. But I think you nurtured some resentment towards me, and while this is understandable I don't want it to come in the way of your academic performance. We have to figure something out for the rest of the year : I won't be the reason you might fail your exam.”

“How do you find my _academic performance_ so far, professor ?”

“Good. Brilliant, event. Why do you ask ?”

“Because I had much more _resentment_ towards you when the year started than I do now. It also my opinion that I handled it quite brilliantly,” she retorted while looking him dead in the eye.

Draco was dumbstruck by his student's repartee. He thought back to her story – to the fact that she'd spent the year knowing that most of her family had died in her teacher's home – and his esteem for her increased all the more.

“I'm sorry you had to put up with me as your professor this year,” he apologised.

“It was difficult. At first. I didn't get how they could let you teach here, it made me really mad. I nearly quit school,” she stated, pushing back a strand of curly hair behind her ear.

“What has prevented you from doing so ?” Draco asked.

“Professor Potter. He explained to me that some of the Manor's victims owed you their lives, because you went back to rescue them after the Battle of Hogwarts. And even if it was too late for my family, I know it's also thanks to you that we retrieved the bodies to bury them.”

The young women paused – her eyes were starting to water, but she kept going :

“He assured me that if I reported any suspicious behaviour to him he'd make sure himself that you'd be dismissed, but he also asked me to give you a chance. And I'm still angry, but I know you're a great teacher, and I know you didn't press charges against my mother – even if it didn't make a big difference. So, I'm going to make an effort.”

Draco gave her some time to recover from her emotions before he went on :

“I believe you used to live alone with your mother ? Do you have a place to stay for the holidays ? Someone to take care of you ?”

“I'm eighteen. I guess I'll stay alone at my mother's house until I start working and can afford my own place.”

“Find someone you can confide in, you'll need it. Take care of yourself. And let me know if there's anything I can do to help you get to the end of the year.”

“There's something,” Shae answered. “My mum. She's still in a Ministry cell right now, but they're going to send her to Azkaban... I ran into some dementors in Hogsmeade a few months ago, and I can't stand the idea of her going through this every single day...”

“There's nothing I can do to keep her out of Azkaban, unfortunately...” Draco confessed.

“No, but about the dementors... We could forbid them. After all, they started restricting their function years ago, and they voted two weeks ago to stop ever sending them out of jail... Don't you think we could ban them completely ?”

“I don't know, Shae. But if you want to try, I advise you to get in touch with Hermione Granger-Weasley at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If anyone can lead this fight, that's her. I'll try to support that decision, but you should know that my influence is insignificant.”

“And... What about Professor Potter ? He's influent, he could...” The student tried.

“Look, I'll take that up with him, but don't expect too much. He's kept himself far from politics for years, and as noble as your cause is I doubt that he's willing to engage in one more fight. Get in touch with Mrs Granger-Weasley, and I'll do my best,” he concluded.

“Thanks, professor. And... Look out for yourself, too,” said the girl as she left the classroom, leaving Draco to wonder what kind of trouble he just put himself into in order to ease his conscience.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

It's only a few days later that he started measuring to what extent he'd indeed put himself in trouble. Harry had gotten mad when he told him about the promise he'd made to Shae – really mad. Draco, if he didn't forgive his captors' actions, could understand their motivations ; Harry couldn't. He genuinely hated them, and he couldn't conceive that the former Slytherin wanted to do something to ease their stay in prison.

But, beyond his student's request, Draco himself believed in this fight ; because dementors terrified him. Because he didn't know how anyone could stand their constant presence. Because he never imagined that his father, as he knew him before Azkaban, would be capable of starving himself to death... Maybe that was what impacted his decision the most, because after all Potter hated the dementors as much as he did ; the difference was, he had no reason of feeling empathetic towards the prisoners. Draco had nearly been one of them, and he knew that if even his father, with all his pride and ambition, didn't get through it, himself wouldn't've stood a chance. So, he felt like it was his duty to prevent other people from suffering the same fate because of him.

Harry eventually agreed to talk to Granger about it, but on one condition : that Draco joined him to have tea at his aunt's.

 

Today was Saturday, and the Charms professor deeply regretted agreeing to that deal. He was going to spend a horrendous afternoon with a Bellatrix lookalike and a snotty brat that was going to cling on to Potter, all to get the latter to send a blasted owl to his gal pal... He was wondering where his discernment had gone when he'd taken that decision.

“Don't pout,” Harry gently asked as they apparated in front of the Tonks' small house.

“I'm not pouting, Potter. I'm expressing my discontentment. Hopefully if I'm rude enough she'll kick us out.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Harry answered while softly stroking his arm, “you don't even know her. If you don't want to come back after that, it's your decision. But at least give her the benefit of the doubt.”

He looked at him kindly, and Draco hated it : it made him want to make an effort.

“Yeah... All right, let's get this over with....”

He'd put as much ill will as he could in the words, but Harry answered with a broad smile and stepped forward to knock on the door.

“Hello boys,” Andromeda cheerfully exclaimed. “Come in, come in !”

They'd barely crossed the threshold when a skinny brat with electric blue hair jumped loudly in Harry's arms. The latter had explained to him that his godson was a metamorphmagus, but Draco thought to himself that the kid was just being a show-off.

“Teddy, meet Draco,” Andromeda announced to try and get some of the child's attention back from his godfather. “He's your cousin.”

“Hello,” said Draco coldly when he looked at him curiously.

“You know,” Andromeda went on, “he's Narcissa's son. We went to their house last Wednesday.”

“The giant house ?” Teddy asked, suddenly gaining interest.

“It's not that big,” the Charms professor objected, on the defensive.

“It's bigger than my school,” the child retorted with a frown.

Harry chuckled next to him, and Draco was speechless. He kept _expressing his discontentment_ until they settled in the little living room, where Andromeda started asking him a gazillion questions while Teddy and Harry where having fun nearby. As their conversation unfolded, her resemblance to Bellatrix was less and less obvious, and Draco relaxed a little.

“I'm sorry,” Andromeda said eventually. “I know that I'm curious, but I feel like we have so much catching up to do... Teddy, love,” she interrupted herself to look at her grandson who was climbing on Harry's back for whatever reason, “leave Harry be for a while and come sit properly for tea, please.”

The child did as he was told and came to sit in the armchair in front of Draco. The latter wasn't sure he liked that change, even if he was satisfied that his boyfriend's attention was back on him : the little boy suddenly decided too that the guest was utterly fascinating, and he was staring at him unblinkingly as he ate his biscuits. After several awkward minutes, Teddy finally opened his mouth to ask :

“Say, do you know how to play chess ?”

“Of course I know,” Draco answered, kind of vexed that the kid even doubted that.

“Will you play with me ?” The child lit up.

“Teddy, don't bother our guests,” Andromeda stepped in.

“No, it's okay, I'll play,” the former Slytherin assured – he was thrilled to give Teddy a reason to stop staring at him.

“Awesome ! I'll go fetch the board !” He exclaimed as he stood up in a hurry.

“Are you sure it doesn't bother you ?” Harry asked in a hushed voice while Andromeda had left the room to make some more tea.

Draco shrugged :

“I'm already here, might as well keep busy.”

Teddy came back in the living room like a tornado, an old wooden case in his arms. He immediately started setting up the board in front of Draco with surprising speed.

“You'll see,” Harry taunted him, “he'll defeat you in about three minutes.”

“You're just saying that because you've never seen me play,” Draco retorted. “I bet you're just bad at it.”

“Hey !” Harry protested, but his godson intervened :

“It's true, Uncle Harry, you're the only one that can't beat me... Nanny often wins ! And even when I play muggle chess at school...”

But Draco didn't hear the end of the sentence as it was lost in the sound of his own laugh and the DADA professor's objections.

The game began, and Draco had to admit that, at only eight years old, the child was doing remarkably well, setting traps and developing complex strategies.

“Hey, but you just cheated !” The kid shouted after one of Draco's relatively authorised moves – the man was willing to try anything to avoid making a fool of himself in front of Harry – particularly right after he laughed so hard at him.

“What, this ? You know, it's not really cheating unless you get caught...”

“Great advice, _professor_ ,” Harry said sarcastically as Teddy looked at the blond man with a mix of unbelief and awe.

“Well, except for school, obviously,” the former Slytherin redeemed himself. “But you seem way too smart to resort to cheating,” he added for Teddy.

The latter smiled broadly, showing an incomplete set of teeth : he was missing a front tooth, which gave him a scoundrel look that suited him quite well. Draco winked at him and decided to behave for the rest of the game, ultimately accepting his defeat after a fierce battle.

“But then again, I'm still better than Harry,” he stated. “Aren't I, Teddy ?”

The boy didn't dare say a word, but he roared with laughter in answer to Draco's knowing look.

 

The mood seemed to lighten after the game, and Draco even enjoyed his tea as he watched Harry and his godson run around the house.

“It makes you wonder which one is the kid, doesn't it ?” Andromeda asked smiling.

She was right : at times, Draco felt like he was seeing the eleven years old he met at Madam Malkin's in his boyfriend's features. He'd never confess it out loud, but it made him happy : to see the man he loved forget even just for a second every trial life'd put him through was priceless.

“The elite of professors,” he commented sarcastically. “It's rather impressive to see the Chosen One in action if you're not used to it...”

“You have your mother's sense of humour,” Andromeda noted, laughing.

“You might be referring to a different mother. Humour is not really her strong point...”

“Oh, think again ! She's certainly lost some of her joie de vivre, but she was always cheeky. She used to make the sharpest jokes... Of course, there was few competition at the Blacks', but... Except from our cousin Sirius, no one made me laugh as hard as she did.”

Draco unwillingly lost track of the conversation : further away, Teddy was staring at him again. After a few seconds, the boy leant towards his godfather, who was crouching next to him, to whisper something in his ear. Harry smiled and nodded, and Teddy looked positively thrilled.

“Aw, these two,” Andromeda went on. “Teddy's lucky to have his godfather : he was always here whenever we needed someone.”

“I'm sorry,” Draco said as he looked back at her, “I got distracted for a minute.”

Harry and Draco had slipped out to the garden ; they could hear them laugh and shout from the living room.

“Don't you worry, sweetheart, I get it. It must be weird, Harry's different when they are together. It sure is weird to me when I see him without Teddy around.”

The shouting noise became louder, and Teddy ran in the living room, towards Draco :

“Quick, protect me, he's going to get me !”

“What ?” Draco stood up at once, which allowed the boy to slip behind him – the Malfoy heir didn't understand the situation at all.

Harry crossed the threshold, out of breath, and hunched theatrically when he caught sight of Teddy :

“I see a boy who'll be tossed to the gnomes really soon...”

He was slowly coming closer, and Draco could feel the boy gripping the back of his robes a little tighter with each step. He had no idea what he was supposed to do : even when he was a child he never played that way. Harry winked at him playfully, which gave him absolutely no clue as to what was going to happen next.

When Harry got about four feet away, Draco turned around to pick up Teddy – who was heavier than he looked - without thinking and ran to the garden with him, Harry on their heels. The child giggled and commanded him to go faster, but Harry caught up to them pretty quickly. He hoisted his godson up on his shoulder and ran towards the patch of tall grass at the end of the garden, where he hanged him upside-down, laughing, before he carefully put him back down on his feet. Teddy ran back to Draco and, without notice, hugged him tightly :

“I knew you'd try to rescue me ! Having a cousin is wicked !”

Draco didn't answer ; he just ruffled some more the blue mop of hair on his head.

Harry was watching them fondly, which amplified Draco's discomfort.

“Will you be ready to leave soon ?” He asked as to save the Charms professor from this situation. “I'm sure Teddy still has plenty of homework to do.”

“I don't !” The child protested, letting go of Draco. “It's all done. Tell them, Nanny !”

Andromeda was leaning against the doorframe, and she answered softly but firmly :

“It is. However, you still have to take a shower before dinner, you'll have to get down to it.”

“But... They can still stay for a little while, I'm not that dirty !”

“Are you sure ?” Harry taunted him. “Because I swear I can smell you from here !”

“Hey ! That's not true !” Teddy answered, pretending to pout. “Will you come back soon, at least ?”

“What do you think ? A little birdie told me that there will be a birthday to celebrate here very soon...”

“Awesome ! Will you be there too, Draco ?” He asked quickly, looking up at him.

“I... If that's what you want... That's if I'm invited, obviously...”

“Of course you're invited, sweetheart,” Andromeda chimed in.

So ; apparently, his aunt had decided to call him by this ridiculous nickname for the rest of his life. He found it deeply annoying, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her ; she had a kind of natural authority that was pretty scary.

“I'll be there, then,” he concluded.

“Wicked !” Teddy exclaimed. He then seemed to concentrate for a few seconds, staring at him.

“What are you...”

Before Draco could formulate his question, his cousin's hair suddenly turned silvery blond, imitating his own to perfection.

“Wow,” he couldn't refrain. “It suits you well !”

He rarely saw metamorphmagi in action and the sight was very impressive, particularly from a child.

“Okay, Teddy, now that you've impressed Draco, we're good to go,” Harry announced, smiling.

He hugged his godson, told him to behave with his grandmother and, after they thanked Andromeda, both men went out of the property to disapparate.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“So, I think you made a new friend,” Harry joked as they were crossing Hogsmeade.

“He's... Okay. For a child, I mean,” Draco answered.

“Stop pretending : you had fun, I saw you. It's okay,” he added as he gave him a slight nudge on the shoulder, “I won't tell anyone that there's a child who likes you, it would ruin your _bad bitch_ reputation...”

“That's all great,” Draco hissed, “but he'd like me a lot less if he knew I was shagging his godfather...”

Harry frowned :

“I'm not sure I like it when you put it that way, but he knows we're together.”

“What ?” Draco stopped in the middle of the road to stare at him.

“What, _what_?”

“You told him ?!”

“I don't know why I'd hide it from him to begin with, but he's the one who asked.”

“He asked just like that ?” Draco pointed out, skeptical.

“Look, I don't know why that upsets you, but yes. Last time I was there he asked if I had a girlfriend. I told him I had a _boyfriend_. He just asked earlier if that was you. And, for the record, it seemed to make him happy. Makes one of you...”

Draco suddenly realised where they'd stopped : small students groups were passing near them to go back to the castle after their day in Hogsmeade.

“We'll discuss this later,” he grunted as he went back on his way.

Some students were already giggling behind their backs, and Draco had to control his temper to avoid giving them all detention. He rushed to his bedroom, Harry following him silently.

 

“What is wrong with you ?” The latter exploded after he closed the door. “We're having a great day, then you get angry because my godson likes you ?!”

“What's wrong with me is that it's all going too fast !” The former Slytherin cried. “It's going too fast...” He repeated more calmly when Harry looked dumbfounded.

He'd tried to organise his thoughts on their way back to the bedroom :

“It's been two weeks, and...”

“It's been two weeks since what ?” Harry abruptly cut him off.

“Since we got together !” Draco finally put into words.

He was saying it out loud for the first time – his guts were practicing sailor's knots.

“Excuse me ? Are you fucking kidding me ?! It's been months since it stopped being just about sex !”

“And it's been two weeks since _I_ decided it was serious,” Draco stated. “And you're already taking me to meet your _family_ ! That's messed up !”

“Hold on for a sec, it's not my fault if my godson also happens to be your cousin, is it ? What, do you think I set some sort of trap for you ?!”

“ _Of course not,_ ” Draco thought, “ _But how can I handle the fact that our love life doesn't only involve the two of us anymore, but also our loved ones ? That the outside world can suddenly meddle in our relationship ? That an eventual break-up might impact way more than just our own feelings ? That every aspect of our lives becomes linked to an attachment that we still have trouble figuring out ourselves ?”_

But the words wouldn't come out. If he said them out loud, they'd become true. And he wasn't ready to face them.

“It's... It's going too fast,” he repeated mindlessly.

Harry stared at him, disillusioned :

“There's nothing I can do for you, Draco. I don't know what to say anymore to make you finally realise how lucky we are. I love you, you love me – yes, I remember you saying it the other night – and we have loved ones who support us. That's all I need, but if it's not enough for you there's nothing I can do. I need to be alone right now. Feel free to come find me when you finally stop making things harder for yourself.”

Harry exited the room before he could answer, and Draco stood there staring at the door for a long time after he was gone.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

He was thinking. He spent a long time thinking. What Harry had said got to him, because he was spot on : Draco loved to create drama out of thin air. Because it seemed impossible to him that happiness could last ; because it'd never been the case, but also because deep down he didn't think he deserved it. He worked a lot on that, but his old reflexes were still there. He wondered what his therapist would say to him. Probably what she'd been advising him for years : to enjoy what life gave him, and to stop trying to punish himself furthermore for his past mistakes, that kind of crap.

He tried to keep busy to stop this self-analysis that tended to turn his stomach, but he didn't even know what to do. _Fuck_ , he got so used to spending his free time with Potter that he was bored the minute he found himself on his own. Even though most of the time they just read or graded papers in separate corners of the room... But everything appeared to be more interesting when the former Gryffindor was around. He felt pathetic... Like he was being trapped in a cheesy Celestina Warbeck song - “ _You charmed the heart out of me_ ”, or some shite like that.

 

The rest of the afternoon went by awfully slowly, and he was relieved when it was finally time for dinner. His eyes quickly scanned the professors' table when he entered the Great Hall, but Harry was nowhere to be seen ; he'd probably show up later. Draco sat next to Neville, who was one of the few people who hadn't changed around him one bit after his pseudo coming-out.  
Most of the other professors were not completely unfriendly either, but he could often feel that they were uncomfortable around him. In a single day he'd been accused of treason, sequestered, the whole country had been reminded that he'd been a Death Eater, he learnt that his father had died, and he'd hinted that he was romantically involved with his coworker-the-hero-of-the-wizarding-world... It might have been a bit much to take in for some people. Draco didn't doubt things would get back to normal, but he'd have to be patient.

“So,” Neville asked, filling up his plate, “how was tea ?”

They'd talked about it that morning while telling each other their plans for the weekend.

“It was okay,” Draco answered. “Feels good to meet some members of my family that are not murderous psychopaths.”

Neville smiled politely, and Draco remembered at once his connection to Bellatrix – he'd missed an opportunity to shut up, once more.

“What about you ?” He went on quickly. “You were in London, right ?”

“No, that's tomorrow ! Hannah's working on Saturdays, I can only see her on Sundays,” he explained sadly.

“How are you getting used to it ?” Draco asked seriously, thinking back to the few hours he just spent and how lonely he'd felt.

“We're not. Not really. Things are tough ever since I started working here. But every relationship has its complications...”

“Tell me about it...” The Charms professor sighed in spite of himself.

“Something wrong with Harry ?” Neville asked like the matter wasn't tricky.

“No big deal,” Draco lied, putting down his fork despite not having eaten a thing. “I just screwed everything up, that's all...”

“You know,” the Herbology professor answered kindly, “Harry has a temper, but he doesn't hold grudges. Not with his loved ones. If you go apologise, he'll probably move on.”

“Yeah... Not my specialty, but thanks for the advice. It'd almost make me regret giving you shit back in school,” he added sarcastically to kill the _agony column_ vibe that had settled.

“Almost ?” Neville pointed out. “I'm your best friend around here, you'd better regret completely before I change my mind !”

Draco never really had friends : he only knew few children before he went to Hogwarts, since he was privately educated at the Manor. Crabbe and Goyle were his henchmen : he never saw them as his equals. Blaise was his rival ; even on the few occasions they'd been intimate it always turned to unhealthy competition. The only one Draco could have considered a friend was Pansy. She was caustic, confident, and delightfully bitchy : every required quality to get in his good graces. But back then he just acted like he was taught, and he only saw her as a way to boost his ego, when he didn't just use her to get what he wanted – a pawn on the chess game he pictured his life to be. And today, the kid he used to think was weak and pathetic, the one he despised for so long, was the first person to call him a friend. If he'd managed that, he could get Potter's forgiveness too, couldn't he ?

“All right,” he granted with a soft smile, “I completely regret. No need to resort to threats, Longbottom.”

“That's more like it. In the meantime, I think you pissed off Harry enough to make him skip a meal... Good luck with that.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Draco didn't waste time going to his own room after dinner : the sooner he apologised, the sooner they could get on with their life. He knocked on Harry's door. No response. The second time either. Nor the third.

“Bloody hell, Potter, I know you're mad at me, but are you really going to make me shout through a door ?”

_The hell with it_ , he thought as he opened the lock with a flick of his wand.

No one. As he looked around, Draco noticed that the old Firebolt that was usually leaning against the wall on the left was missing. He stepped in front of the window and searched for the Quidditch pitch ; in spite of the darkness, he could figure out a tiny silhouette moving nimbly in the air. He tried to convince himself that he recognised Potter by deduction, not because he so often admired his way of flying when they were in school, but it was the same result : he knew Harry was the one flying over the pitch.

He made a quick detour to fetch his own broom and his cloak in his bedroom and crossed the castle, then the grounds, until he reached the stands. He observed Harry for a while, hidden in the shadows : the other man captured the golden snitch, released it again, and started over tirelessly. The broomstick he was flying on may have been old, but the seeker's reflexes were still brilliant. After a few minutes, Draco saw the tiny ball reflecting the lampposts' light near his observation point ; he climbed on his broomstick and chased it successfully. Harry showed no surprise when he flew towards him, golden snitch in his hand :

“Enjoy, it might be the first time you manage to catch it before me,” he stated coldly.

“Hilarious,” Draco commented as he released the ball. “Did it ever occur to you that I was letting you win on purpose to make you happy ?”

Harry sneered :

“Yeah, right, like you ever did anything to make anyone happy. Just say that you were too busy checking me out to focus on the game.”

Draco was hurt, but he found Potter particularly irresistible when he was being surly : it helped him remember that he originally came here to apologise. In the time it took him to find his words, however, Harry was back chasing the golden snitch. The Charms professor followed his lead, and they kept flying in circles and in silence for a long time, looking for the little ball in the dim light. When Draco finally spotted the familiar glow on his right, he was once again outpaced by the former Gryffindor who flew at top speed to seize the golden ball a split second before he did. Potter turned to face him, triumphant, and Draco was trying to decide what he wanted the most : to punch him or to undress him and fuck him right there in the middle of the pitch. He told himself that both options would be welcomed quite coldly by the man who currently resented him.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered.

“What was that ?” Harry asked, flying closer.

Draco didn't know if he wanted to make it last longer or if he truly didn't hear, but he repeated in a stronger voice :

“I'm sorry.”

The other man let go of the golden snitch and stared at him for a second before he answered :

“What's bugging me is that you'd've been cool with Teddy knowing about us if I were a woman.”

“Potter, if you were a woman there would be no _us,_ ” Draco said ironically.

“Stop it,” Harry scolded. “You know what I mean : you're ashamed. And I want to give you the time you need, but I can't go back there either : I feel like I'm losing my grip on things that took me years to really accept.”

“No,” Draco denied. “You're wrong. I know you're going to make me regret saying this pretty soon, but I'm not ashamed of being with you. Man or not, I'll never be ashamed.”

“... But ?” Harry asked as he was pausing.

“But I'm terrified. Because the day you realise you don't want me anymore, everything will change. I was already expecting to lose you, but if we keep this going I'll lose even more. You can't offer me a whole new life that may slip through my fingers at any time...”

Crap. Draco was pretty proud of himself for expressing his feelings without sarcasm, but Harry seemed to be even more upset.

“You're such a moron,” he eventually said before he flew to him.

He got his hands off the Firebolt and hugged Draco, making them both rock critically :

“Stop telling yourself that this is bound to end. Stop trying to prove your point by sabotaging us. I love you,” he said, taking Draco's face in his hands – they were cold against his skin, and he shivered. “and it's not by chance, and it's not by mistake.”

Draco didn't know what to answer to the green eyes that were staring at him with worry. So, he risked his all :

“I love you too. And I don't know if it's by chance, but I think it's the best mistake I ever made.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could die for Minerva McGonagall.  
> Also for Teddy Lupin.  
> Either I don't care much about my own life, or they are just so fucking precious.
> 
> (The latter. It's the latter. Hope I did them justice !)


	3. Fun, fun, fun.

 

“A comet ?” Harry repeated, skeptical. “Draco, we're searching for a gift, not trying to prank him...”

They were standing outside _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ on Diagon Alley, looking for a gift for Teddy's upcoming birthday.

“You don't know anything about this, Potter ! I'm not talking about an old Comet 290, the New Comets are so promising. Look how they're profiled : they're revolutionising the whole range, that's obvious.”

“If you say so...” Harry doubted as he was reading the technical characteristics of said broomstick. “I read about it in _Which Broomstick ?_ , but I'm not really fond of that brand.”

Draco rolled his eyes :

“I don't know what I was expecting from someone who's flying on a ten years old Firebolt... That thing's an antique, it's more than time for you to upgrade, too...”

“There's no way in hell,” Harry said categorically. “We can take whichever one you want for Teddy, but you leave my _antique_ out of this. I'm perfectly satisfied with it.”

“I'll never understand you,” Draco sighed. “You can afford it, why not enjoy the top of the range ?”

“Why do you keep wearing my muggle bracelet despite thinking that it's roughly engraved ?” Harry retorted, somewhat annoyed with his partner's behaviour.

Malfoy blushed ; Harry was satisfied to have managed to destabilise him.

“That's not the same,” the Charms professor replied. “That's... _sentimental_ ,” he added as if the very word made him nauseous.

“Well, it's the same for my Firebolt,” Harry concluded.

Seeing that Draco was glowering at him, probably imagining that it was an old lover's gift, he decided that it was safer to clear the air :

“My godfather gave it to me in third year. It's the only present I have from him. So it may not be the fastest, nor the prettiest, but it's mine. Period.”

He'd never really talked about Sirius to Malfoy, apart from the bare minimum required to understand what he'd been through. He didn't like to talk about the people he'd lost, let alone with Draco who'd lived all that from the murderers' side.

“Okay,” the other man went on, “so what soon to be old-fashioned broomstick from his godfather will Teddy cherish ten years from now, then ?”

Harry smiled as he answered :

“I fully intend to buy him a new one almost every year when he plays at Hogwarts. Unless he's sorted in Slytherin. There's no way I help you win the Cup...”

“I'm so impressed by your impartiality, professor,” Draco joked. “They're about to win it this year anyway, they don't need your bribes. In the meanwhile, we're not spending the day in front of the window, which one do you choose ?”

“Right. If you're absolutely sure I'll go with the New Comet. If it happens to suck I'll just let Teddy know it's your fault...”

Harry saw Malfoy raise an eyebrow as he was leaving him on the pavement to get in the shop.

 

 

When Harry went out again, he heard loud voices and instinctively sped up ; a small group was standing on the other side of the street : those wizards and witches were clearly inebriated and made no effort to be discreet. Harry didn't have time to catch what they were ranting about : one of the drunkards saw him come out of the shop and gestured at her acolytes, who immediately scattered.

Draco, still waiting in front of the store, was tense and visibly shaking. Harry quickly laid his package at his feet and took him by the shoulders :

“Draco ? What happened ?”

“Nothing,” the other man shut down, getting free of the grip. “Let's go.”

“Draco, please,” Harry insisted gently.

“What happened was what _always_ happens whenever I find myself in a public wizarding space,” the former Slytherin coldly explained. “There's a bunch of cunts who were afraid that I might have forgiven I was once a Death Eater and who took it upon themselves to remind me.”

“Bloody bastards,” Harry got angry, turning back with his wand at the ready.

But none of the drunks were to be seen : there was nothing but families calmly shopping.

Harry himself had avoided going out from Hogwarts for a long time, overwhelmed by people coming up to him and journalists reporting his every move. But he couldn't imagine what it felt like to get even half the attention when it was a negative one.

“Let it go,” Draco said. “We have the broomstick, we can go home.”

“No,” Harry answered. “I planned on spending a nice day with you, and that's what we're going to do. What about a drink at the Leaky Cauldron ?”

“Harry, you know very well that it will happen again. And as used as I am to controlling my instincts to hex everyone, I'm not sure you are,” he added, pointing to Harry's wand in his hand.

“I'm sorry,” the latter apologised as he put it back in his pocket. “Come on, please ? Let's not give these blockheads the satisfaction of ruining our day. Just one drink.”

“All right,” Draco eventually agreed. “If it makes you stop whining.”

Harry was about to protest this last point, but as he looked at Draco he saw the half smile on his face. They got on their way, and the DADA professor wasn't even told off when he took his boyfriend's arm on a good half of the way. Teddy's gift under one arm, the man he loved attached to the other... Suddenly, everything was well for Harry.

They didn't notice more than a few interested stares and, by the time they got to the pub, no one came to bother them. They were welcomed by Neville, who was more than happy to see them : he was there visiting Hannah Abbott – who'd become the landlady after Tom retired a few years prior – and was bored to death waiting for his girlfriend to have some time to spare for him.

The three of them sat at the bar discussing, eventually having way more than one drink, and ended up grabbing a bite directly at the pub so that Hannah could join them. When they went out - fairly buzzed – at the end of the night, Harry couldn't help but stand on tiptoe to kiss Draco on the cheek :

“Do you realise ? That was like our first double date.”

“Don't be too pleased, you dummy : you forgot your godson's gift at the pub...”

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

A week later, they were apparating with the retrieved package in front of the Tonks' house. As usual, Teddy jumped in Harry's arms as soon as the door opened, but Draco also got his hug right after. Harry was amused at his godson's hair, for it was still matching his boyfriend's (“ _It's been all about Draco for the last two weeks_ ,” Andromeda confirmed).

A sweet mayhem ruled in the small living room : Teddy was already back running around with Victoire, and Dominique was trying her best to follow them. A very pregnant Fleur was wearing herself out trying to calm down her daughters while Molly tried to convince her to sit down for a minute ; Bill was too busy making faces at Rose, who was laughing out loud in Ron's arms, to care about that. Arthur was deep in conversation with Hermione, and even the children's shouts didn't seem to disturb them. Harry smiled : as noisy as it was, it was a perfect picture to him.

“I invited Cissy, but she didn't wish to join the party,” Andromeda explained. “She owled a beautiful cloak for Teddy this morning, though. It was so sweet of her.”

“Celebrations were never her favourite thing, unless they involved high society and significant amounts of champagne,” Draco commented. “However, I was expecting to see a lot more children running around.”

“Don't be so harsh with your mother, Draco,” Andromeda scolded him. “And Teddy already celebrated with his friends yesterday : he goes to a muggle school, we have to throw two separate parties.”

“A muggle school ?”

Draco looked flabbergasted.

“I went to muggle schools until I was eleven too,” Harry reminded him before he said something insensitive.

“With such brilliant results,” Draco said sarcastically, succeeding in ignoring Harry's warning in the worst way possible.

“Very funny,” the latter commented before he left him there with his aunt to go say hello to the rest of the family.

Everyone welcomed him warmly but he noticed several side glances, mainly from Molly and Fleur whom Harry had caught whispering as they were watching Draco. The former Slytherin had complied in turn with the greetings ritual, and apart from Ron and Bill everyone seemed greatly uncomfortable around him. Harry sighed and went to join him and the Weasley brothers as soon as he could, before his partner left the party without further notice or, worse, started making jokes about redheads.

“So, Bill,” he said to try and lighten the mood, laying his hand on Draco's shoulder, “you still don't wish to reveal the baby's gender ?”

“Nope ! It's gonna be a surprise for everyone,” said the man with a broad smile. “But I'm taking bets, to your predictions !”

Fleur shot him an angry glance from the other side of the room, and he lowered his voice :

“George bet five galleons on a boy : he thinks it's time for little Freddy to have a cousin he can sow wild oats with.”

“How's George, by the way ?” Harry inquired. “I owled him a gift for his birthday, but he never replied...”

“Oh, he's all right,” Ron answered, avoiding his gaze. “So,” he changed the subject, “Five galleons on _girl_ , then.”

“Ginny placed the same bet,” Bill said, amused : “she intends to create a whole Weasley Harpies team, someday.”

“But please,” Ron asked, “try and give them a first name that I can actually pronounce without having to practice, this time... Bloody French...”

Harry and Bill made fun of him friendly, and Draco saw fit to join the taunting :

“I'm shocked to hear that the great Auror Ronald Weasley bows before the subtleties of the French language...”

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Ron said jokingly. “Not everyone was raised with the toffs, with French lessons in the mornings and harp, bowing and scraping in the afternoons.”

“Lovely take on my childhood,” Draco retorted. “But had you paid more attention during one of the _numerous_ searches at the Manor you'd have noticed that we're more of a piano kind of family. Hours of fun learning solfeggio, you have no idea...”

“Yeah, I'm sure your childhood was a bloody nightmare,” Ron said, ironical.

“It was okay. I guess it was still better than growing up in whatever swamp you came out of,” Draco said.

The two brothers reacted, but Harry was the fastest – unfortunately, he was expecting a slip.

“Oi ! Outside. Now.”

He didn't leave Draco much of a choice and dragged him to the back garden, where the children were playing in the distance :

“What's wrong with you ?!” He scolded him. “I don't mind you and Ron bickering about stupid things, but no more _jokes_ about the Weasleys. Ever.”

“Yeah, whereas jokes on this rich-man's son Malfoy are so hilarious, aren't they ?” Draco spat.

“That's not what I said, but you can't attack him like that ! You weren't even trying to be funny, you were just being an arsehole !”

“I'm doing my best, Potter,” Draco got angry. “Have you seen how they're all looking at me ? They already decided they wouldn't give me a chance.”

“I know it's not easy,” Harry said more calmly. “But these people inside are my family. It may take time, but give them a chance to see you on a better light. Chill a little and everything will be fine, I promise...”

He laid a reassuring hand on his partner's cheek, and Teddy came barreling towards them, making them both jump :

“Hey, Uncle Harry, can I open my presents, now ? I bet I already know what you got me !”

Harry smiled at the mischievous mug staring at him expectantly :

“I don't know, bug, you have to ask Nanny.”

On these words, Teddy ran inside with the two blond girls on his heels.

“We should go back too,” Harry said softly, staring into the grey eyes.

“Yeah,” Draco begrudgingly agreed. “Here we go again. Fun, fun, fun.”

Their entrance was obviously the signal for Teddy to start unwrapping every present he could put his hands on. He was thrilled wis every gift, but his eyes truly lit up when he saw the New Comet, which he'd saved for last.

“I knew it was a broomstick !” He exulted, unknowingly making his hair turn bright pink. “This one's so good ! The Caerphilly Catapults' seeker has the same one !”

Draco smirked and glanced at Harry.

“Yeah, okay,” the latter admitted. “You chose well.”

“Can I try it now ?” Teddy asked his grandmother immediately.

“You can,” Andromeda answered gently, “but you know the rules...”

“Yes, I know, don't go higher than the hedges...”

“Or...” She continued.

“Or the Ministry will have to erase every muggle's memory in the village,” Teddy recited half-heartedly.

Draco leaned towards the boy :

“You know,” he said, “if you come to the Manor on a week-end we can go fly it together : there's enough room there to do it discretely.”

“For real ?” Teddy exclaimed, looking for a confirmation in his Nanny's eyes.

“If it's alright by Narcissa, sure,” she approved.

“Brilliant ! Come on, Vic', let's go try it in the garden !”

The girl followed him in the garden unblinkingly, apparently as impatient as he was to break in the new broomstick.

“You went the extra mile, boys,” Andromeda said to the two professors after the children went out. “A used broomstick would have been fine, Teddy can't fly very often.”

“I meant it,” Draco said. “He's free to take it to the Manor whenever he wants. The three of us can even play Quidditch a bit, next summer.”

“That's nice, sweetheart.”

Harry saw Ron and Hermione exchange puzzled looks at the pet name and he feared for an impending crisis, but Draco stared at them challengingly, which seemed to dissuade them from making any comment. What Harry was taking away from this was that Malfoy pictured the three of them together the next summer, and it was all that really mattered.

 

Ron came to find them a few minutes after, under Hermione's concerned gaze :

“Look, Mal... Draco. I'm sorry about earlier. I know you're going through a hard time, and I shouldn't have joked about your family.”

He wasn't really looking at Draco as he spoke, but it was still something. Harry was crossing his fingers that his boyfriend wouldn't ruin it.

“Okay. I'm sorry, too,” the former Slytherin said. “I went too far.”

Harry stared at him for a minute : he couldn't believe that these words just came out of his mouth. In the few months that they'd been together he might have apologised two times – top – to Harry ; and again, they were times he'd messed up really bad. Like he was trying to kill him with bewilderment, Draco held out his hand to Ron :

“Fresh start ?”

“Fresh start,” Ron agreed, shaking his hand in return.

They were in a parallel universe. Or they were both Imperiused... In any case, there must have been something behind this. Well, for Ron, it may have simply been his wife's silent threats, almost palpable in the air. But Harry would never have imagined that Draco could be capable of humility and forgiveness towards Ron. It may have been because of the upcoming full moon – although it was supposed to have the opposite effect on werewolves.

“So,” Ron went on, impervious to the trouble this whole conversation was causing his best friend, “how have things been at Hogwarts since the last time ? I mean, going back to normal, after all of this...”

“I'll let you know when things are back to normal,” Draco complained. “But it's okay. I didn't think I'd be allowed to keep teaching, so I'm thankful to McGonagall for that. And to your Department too, I suppose...”

“My Department ?” Ron repeated.

“The Auror Department,” Draco specified, pursing his lips. “For keeping my secret.”

“Ah. That. It's fine,” Ron answered. “But we had to alter your abductors' memories. And my Aurors are under Unbreakable Vow to keep them from disclosing that kind of classified information. We also demoted Dawkins to the archives to make sure he doesn't interact with victims anymore.”

“He deserved to be laid off,” Draco claimed.

Harry had told him, in essence, the interview he'd had with the Auror the day after he was attacked : it did not improve his opinion on the man.

“I don't know,” Ron contradicted him. “He had a problem with you, and he's a cunt, but it's still a shame : he was good at his job. Anyway. Harry, about the howlers you asked me about, there's not much we can do...”

Harry shuddered : he didn't want to discuss this in front of Draco.

“What howlers ?” The latter asked, suspicious.

Harry sighed :

“Some of the howlers we received were... concerning,” he explained. “I'm talking real threats, not just empty insults. I wanted to press charges. But, apparently, that's not an option,” he concluded as he turned to Ron.

“You can,” Ron clarified, “but we can't trace the sender : once they've destroyed themselves, there's no evidence left. But, not even talking about howlers, we get a fair share of hate mail at the Ministry, too. A lot of support for the kidnappers, even though we didn't divulge their identities. We started enquiring some of them, the ones that seemed alarming to us too.”

“Alarming how ?” Harry asked, worried.

“Enough to ask both of you to be careful whenever you go out of Hogwarts,” the Auror stated. “But not enough to assign a personal protection to you.”

The DADA professor searched for a hint in his friend's eyes that he was joking, but the long face he displayed was unusual enough to scare him.

“Brilliant,” Draco commented. Even the cops are afraid for us, now...”

 

 

The conversations lightened considerably after that, except from the one about the dementors Harry had promised to start between Draco and Hermione. They were extremely cold to each other, but none of them got his wand out : Harry considered it to be a victory.

The rest of the day unfolded seamlessly. Teddy's attention was hogged by the Weasley girls, but his godfather was still happy to see him have fun while he was talking with the adults in the room. _In short, it was almost a regular family gathering_ , Harry told himself as they were leaving.

 

 


	4. Comfortable

 

“Does it hurt a lot ?” Harry asked, worried.

“You know how you feel when you have body aches after you exercised too much ?”

“Yeah...”

“Well, that's not even remotely close to that,” Draco answered. “I imagine it's closer to the pain you feel when you're being dismembered, but of course I don't really have a baseline...”

Harry didn't like how sarcastic Draco was being. Not when he was trying to have a serious conversation with him. The moon would be full that night, for the first time since the blond man had been sequestered. For the first time since Harry had learned about his condition. They were having lunch in private in the Charms professor's office, and Harry couldn't help but being anxious regarding the ordeal his partner would have to face that very night.

“And there's nothing that can be done to diminish the pain ?” He inquired.

“I already have a potion that prevents me from killing people, I'm not expecting more than that... No one researches it, because in spite of the Ministry's efforts in recent years it's still quite frowned upon to transform into a savage beast every month. Even the Wolfsbane Potion I have to buy from a shady bloke on Knockturn Alley...”

“And what do you do once you transformed ?”

“I try to sleep, like everyone else,” Draco sighed. “But it's not the same sleep. Or maybe it's just the transformation itself that drains me, I'm not sure. Anyway, when I “ _wake up_ ” everything hurts and I'm knackered. And I still have to give class the whole day. Generally, I drink a tonic and I go out for a walk. Freshness wakes me up a little. Is it enough, or do you need more information about the monster that shares your bed ?”

“Don't say that,” Harry darkened. “It's not by curiosity, I'm worried for you, that's all.”

“You know, it's been about ten years, I'm used to it... However, I don't want to get used to the way you're looking at me, right now.”

“What ?” Harry asked, on the defensive. “How am I looking at you ?”

“Like I'm about to drop dead before I'm even done eating my dessert. You can't play hero, this time. There's nothing you can do for me.”

“I can stay with you for the night,” Harry stated defiantly.

“Absolutely no way.”

“Why not ? You're not dangerous, you're taking the potion.”

“It doesn't mean that I'm okay with you seeing me like that,” Draco said.

“It's a bit late for that,” Harry corrected.

“No, it's different, you don't get it. I don't want you to see me transform. To hear me...”

Harry remembered Lupin's transformation on the night they'd discovered the Shrieking Shack : it sure was awful. But it was about Draco, now. Draco who was about to suffer, who would have to go through all of this alone, one more time...

“And so what ? Scared, Malfoy ?”

It was low to pull his strings like that, but the ploy seemed to work, since Draco gave him his most ferocious smirk :

“You wish.”

“So, I'll meet you in your room at the end of last period.”

Draco stared at him thoughtfully for a minute before he answered :

“You're not letting this go, are you ?”

“Not a chance...”

“If you're willing to give yourself nightmares,” the blond man tried.

“You won't dissuade me,” Harry warned.

“Fine. But you're a pain in the arse.”

“I know,” Harry said, leaning over the desk to kiss him. “I love you,” he added as he stood up.

“Me too...”

Harry started to walk towards the door, smiling ; Draco never said that he loved him this easily. He suddenly had a doubt :

“Wait. Do you love me too, or do you love _you_ too ?”

“Absolutely. See you tonight, Potter.”

“Git,” Harry concluded fondly while leaving the room.

 

 

When the evening came, Harry had to admit that a nervous ball was growing in the pit of his stomach as the night drew closer ; he didn't back out, though, and went straight to Draco's bedroom at the end of his last class. Entering the room, he wondered how he'd not unmask Draco way earlier : his whole body was shaking, he was sweaty, and his skin was nearly transparent. The Charms professor went back to sit on his bed as soon as he'd locked the door ; he looked exhausted. Harry sat next to him and drew him in his arms.

“You can still change your mind,” said Draco's tired voice somewhere against his neck.

“I'm staying,” Harry confirmed. “How soon ?”

“I don't know... I'd say a couple of hours.”

“Okay. So, you'll get even worse than that in the meantime ?”

Draco raised his head to shoot him a murderous glance.

“Sorry,” Harry apologised. “In my defence, you already look like shit right now. I have a hard time picturing what it will look like in an hour or so...”

He was laughing to try and play down the situation, but all he received was a feeble punch on the shoulder. It scared him a little that Draco didn't have enough energy to respond to his taunts.

“Do you want to eat something ?”

“Not hungry,” Draco simply answered, cuddled against him again.

Harry realised he didn't have much of an appetite either and let himself fall back to lie on the bed, gently bringing Draco down with him. He ran a comforting hand across his lover's back, but the latter's chills were not calming down. It was the first time that they were pressed against each other and that time still seemed to go excruciatingly slowly. Harry considered reading for a while, but he knew that he could never focus on anything else than on the man that he loved and that was now looking weak, lost and desperate. That sight made him physically ache : he could feel his partner's distress in each of his bones, mixed with his own frustration at being completely useless.

And they were waiting. They were waiting for the explosion, they were waiting for the violence and the pain, but in a way Harry couldn't wait. He felt awful to even think that, but everything seemed better than this searing wait witnessing Draco's agony. The latter's breathing was becoming more and more raspy, more and more rapid, too. His skin was clammy and blond strands of hair were sticking to his forehead, but his teeth clattered like he was chilled to the bone. Harry had no idea how he could help him, and he wasn't even sure he was still able to talk.

After a while, Draco stood up with great difficulty and started undressing slowly, like he was calling on his last reserves. Harry helped him a little by supporting him at first, then he was the one to finish taking his clothes off completely. Once it was done, Draco kneeled on the floor and Harry stepped back against the wall, aware that the transformation was imminent. He saw the former Slytherin's lips move as his whole body was shaking violently ; he listened carefully but couldn't make out what his partner was trying to say – not until the faint whisper was replaced by a loud squawk :

“Leave ! Get out !”

Awful grunts were mixing with the command, followed by cracking noises that made Harry's hair stand up on his skin.

“Get ou-aaaaghhhhh...”

There was nothing human left in that scream, and the former Gryffindor closed his eyes almost unconsciously, trying not to picture the scene that went along with the countless organic sounds and howls that were filling the room.

After a few minutes of pure horror, everything went silent. Harry didn't dare open his eyes, though : the screams had left a persistent imprint in his brain, and it wouldn't let its alert levels go down. Suddenly, he felt something wet touch his hand ; he jumped and, finally opening his eyes, discovered the silvery werewolf standing in front of him, staring at him with big sad eyes. Harry immediately fell on his knees and hugged the beast :

“Okay, you were right. But the worst is over, now, isn't it ?”

The werewolf roughly licked his cheek and Harry moved back, pushing his head away.

“If you do that again I swear I'll walk you around the castle on a leash,” he said jokingly.

The wolf flashed his fangs, but he quickly turned around to jump on the bed. Harry settled next to him, not sure about what he was or wasn't allowed to do. Could he pet him ? Or rub his belly ? Certainly not : whether he was conscious or not, Draco would probably rip his hand off. In doubt, he picked up a book and lay on his back. The werewolf stretched out against him without complaint ; the warmth coming from his fur felt nice.

Once the shock from the transformation had passed, the evening went pretty well : Kreacher brought Harry a meal that he had to share with the wolf, since the latter showed a particular interest for the sandwich as soon as he'd taken it in his hands. The DADA professor then took some time to grade a few papers before he slipped under the sheets with a book, werewolf Draco still lying against him, over the quilt. There was something comforting falling asleep next to the beast : despite his aspect, he still smelled like Malfoy, and it made Harry feel like he was sleeping with a massive stuffed animal shaped like his boyfriend. A stuffed animal with a lot of fangs and claws, but still...

It wasn't even six in the morning when he woke up with a start : the werewolf, lying on the ground, looking weak, was howling to death. By the time Harry caught his glasses and turned on the light, the dreadful crunching noises had resumed, and the beast's lament mutated into agony wails. This time, Harry couldn't look away and he saw the limbs distend and distort one by one, the peels seemingly retract back under the skin, the snout and tail shrink until they disappeared completely. The scene, particularly upon waking, was horrifying, but Harry didn't care about his own shock : he quickly untucked the sheets and hurried to cover Draco with it as he was difficultly standing on his hands and knees, breathless, on the carpet. The former Gryffindor kneeled to hold him in his arms and they remained like this, quietly, until the sun really rose.

When Draco eventually stood up staggering, he poured himself a glass of a purple liquid that he drank in one go and dragged himself to the bathroom, leaning on the walls to avoid falling. When Harry heard the water run, he shyly pushed the door open :

“Can I join you ?”

Truth be told, he was not as motivated by his desire to share Draco's shower as he was afraid that the man would collapse at his first attempt to move. Draco nodded, and Harry got rid of his pyjama pants in a hurry to slip under the running water. He took the soap from the blond man's hands to clean him up himself, and he took the opportunity to gently massage the white shoulders' tense muscles.

“So,” Draco said eventually in a hoarse voice, “Are you regretting this already ?”

“Of course not,” Harry answered. “But it hurts to see you like this.”

“Don't worry, tomorrow I'll be my youthful self again. In the meantime, can you massage my back for a bit ? I'm practically howling in pain here.”

“Please tell me you didn't just make a wolf pun,” Harry smiled as he moved his hands lower on the battered body. “That was appalling.”

“It's not my fault you're impervious to the subtleties of my humour, Potter...”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Today was one of the days of the year Harry disliked the most : it was the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. He hated October 31st for similar reasons, but at least the Halloween festivities took his mind off things a little. On May 2nd, the whole world remembered he existed : every newspaper wanted an interview, every authority figure wanted him to speak at a memorial service, every student asked him to recount that night's events in detail. And every time, all the people that had fallen during the battle came back to haunt him – figuratively, of course : none of them had remained at Hogwarts as a ghost.

It had been a long day, like each year, but this time Harry was a bit comforted by the fact that that night he'd get to lie down with Draco and cuddle. The vision of his transformation during the previous full moon was starting to fade in his mind, but it certainly caused him to be more patient towards the former Slytherin : he put up with his mood swings more easily, and he felt the need to hug him very often – Draco pretended he hated that, but Harry strongly suspected him of lying.

Professor McGonagall was giving her traditional memorial speech honouring the victims before dinner started, and Harry, even if he was only half listening, couldn't stop the memories from surfacing back once more. Draco must've felt it because he – exceptionally – discreetly lay a hand on his thigh after a few minutes. He wasn't looking at Harry, wasn't displaying any emotion, but that supportive gesture warmed up the former Gryffindor's mood a little.

Next to the blond man, Neville wasn't trying to hide his sorrow upon remembering the battle – after all, it was only the second time he was at Hogwarts for this morbid anniversary, he wasn't used to it yet. Once the speech was over he smiled sadly at Harry, and without a word they knew that they were not alone : both of them would bear the scars of their fight until the very end.

Harry relaxed a little when dinner was finally served : he'd survived another May 2nd. The break didn't last long, though : a flock of owls entered the Great Hall in the middle of the meal, bringing a copy of the Evening Prophet to a bunch of people. Harry swore silently : a special edition never came with good news.

He looked down at the newspaper ; on the first page was the copy of a handwritten letter, with the caption “ _The manifesto received by our editorial staff earlier today. The Daily Prophet declines all responsibility regarding the statements made herein._ ” The DADA professor frowned before he read the document :

 

_Witches, Wizards,_

_In this symbolic day of May 2 nd, dire anniversary of the most important and deadliest battle of the second war against Voldemort, we decided to take action._

_The wizarding world's conflicts always originated from the opposition of a minority of suprematists to progress and opening in our society. A case in point are the major wars of this past century, all of them motivated by the will to reserve to Pure-Bloods only the use of magic, oppressing and persecuting the majority of Half-bloods and Muggle-borns who make up our ranks._

_Denying those blatant facts, our Ministry never initiated anything to put an end to this elite's privileges. Worse, the Justice now decided to openly take the defence of former Death Eaters while condemning their victims. Clearly, we can't stay still as the authorities become accomplices of the perpetuation of this caste's nauseating and destructive views._

_Advocates of the purity of blood, Death Eaters that were not convicted, former allies of Voldemort : all of them are a danger to our society. They are the embers from which the flames of hatred threaten to re-ignite ; we will be the Aguamenti that neutralises them._

 

“What the fuck ?” Harry couldn't refrain.

His eyes stopped on the peculiar signature at the end of the letter : a simple drawing of a drop. Whispers were getting louder in the Great Hall ; the professor opened the newspaper :

 

_On this day of May 2 nd, anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, our editorial was sent this alarming letter, connecting several news stories that happened during the day._

_Indeed, numerous aggressions were reported to us from the whole country, along with another, fatal, in Italy. They were all claimed by a terrorist group named Aguamenti._

_Concerning the non-fatal attacks, the victims all match the announced targets : Pure-blood families, Death-Eaters' relatives, and alleged accomplices that were acquitted during the Great Trials (suspected Imperius Curses, lack of evidence, etc...). At the request of the Auror Department, we won't be disclosing the identities of said victims in here. All of them are out of danger as we publish those lines._

_However, one of these attacks hit its target this morning : the Italian Ministry of Magic reported this afternoon the death of one of our fellow citizens at the hands of this new group. The victim, Pansy Parkinson, born in Cardiff in 1980, had studied at Hogwarts until 1998 within the Slytherin house. She was not known to have a direct connection to Lord Voldemort, but she was strongly suspected of being one of his supporters at the end of the war, following the account from many people of her highly suspect behaviour during the Final Battle._

_Seemingly fleeing this adverse environment, the young woman and her family went into exile to France, where she was able to complete her education at Beauxbatons Academy before she pursued a higher academic level in Magical Law. She'd been practicing for the last three years as a lawyer specialising in International Magical Law in the city of Rome. She was murdered this morning in front of her office, ambushed by a group of at least three wizards according to the local police. The perpetrators managed to leave the crime scene after they left what appears to be their signature – a drop-shaped mark engraved on their victim's hand._

 

“Draco ? Are you all right ?”

Harry awaked from his stupor to look at Neville, who'd lain a hand on Draco's shoulder. The latter was staring at the newspaper's article without blinking ; he didn't answer to the Herbology professor.

“Draco ?” Harry asked in turn.

His voice seemed to be more effective : the former Slytherin slowly looked up at him with bewildered eyes. Harry had to contain himself to not take him in his arms.

“I...”

The Charms professor was having trouble speaking.

“Did you keep in touch with her ?” Neville asked softly, clearly worried.

“No. She... We knew we had to cut ties with one another. The Slytherins. I never saw any of them after eighth year. But. I... She didn't deserve that.”

Harry kept from responding : the last time he saw Pansy, she'd tried to hand him over to Voldemort during the battle. And even apart from that, the previous memories were not particularly more pleasant. He gently squeezed his partner's forearm to express his sympathy. Draco quickly stood up :

“I need some time to myself. See you later.”

The two former Gryffindors watched him leave in silence. Harry had no idea what he was supposed to do. He couldn't help but wonder if the threatening mail the Aurors had received about them had been sent by this terrorist group. But it didn't matter that much in the end : Pure-blood, former Death-Eater... His boyfriend was bound to appear on their hit list.

 

 

 

“Draco ?” He called calmly. “Can I come in ?”

He didn't get an answer, but he couldn't stand picturing Draco, devastated and alone, on the other side of the door. He shyly pushed it ; it wasn't locked. Malfoy was sitting at his desk, back to the room. A metallic shine near his arm caught Harry's eyes : a small knife was laying on the desk. Its blade was sullied.

“Draco...” he whispered.

He'd cut his forearm – once more. He hadn't done it since his father's funeral. Dried blood spots were still covering what was left of the Dark Mark.

“Let me clean that up, would you ?”

Draco looked up at him ; he didn't look like he'd cried – in fact, he wasn't showing any emotion – but it didn't seem like he wanted to talk. Harry decided to take that as a _yes_. He could have cleaned everything up with a flick of his wand, but he figured that a bit of tenderness and subtlety wouldn't be too much. He soaked a piece of cotton in warm water and came back to his lover. Draco looked away as he started cleaning his skin.

“Do you want to talk about it ?” Harry asked quietly.

“What do you want me to say ?” The Charms professor retorted dryly.

Harry didn't say anything, but his gestures involuntarily became a little rougher on the flayed skin.

“Are you trying to finish what I started ?” Draco accused as he freed himself from his grip.

“I'm sorry,” Harry muttered as he dropped the bloody piece of cotton on the desk.

He turned back to the door : clearly, his presence was not wanted.

“It's all my fault,” Draco said when he put his hand on the handle.

“What ? What's your fault ?”

“Everything. The attacks.”

“What ?” Harry repeated, coming back to him. “Why would you think that ?”

“Did you read the letter ?” Draco replied. “ _the Justice now decided to openly take the defence of former Death Eaters while condemning their victims._ They're talking about me. It's my fault they attacked all of these people today.”

“That's bollocks,” Harry got mad. “How can you think even for a minute that this is your fault ?! First, those twats don't need an excuse to kill. Second, You weren't responsible for your abductors' arrest ! For fuck's sake, _they're_ the ones who decided to attack you ! I understand that you're worried, but I won't let you feel guilty.”

“You _won't let me_ ?” Draco noted impertinently. “Wow, looks like I don't have a choice, then, I _have to_ get better, you fixed everything with your natural _leadership_...”

“Oh, shut it !” Harry couldn't help but respond. “After all, if you'd rather mope it's up to you.”

Draco sprang to his feet ; Harry thought he was going to punch him, but instead he ran to the window. A small owl was waiting for him there, a piece of parchment tied to its leg. He unfolded it and, after a few seconds, let himself fall back on his bed, covering his face with his hands.

“What's happening ?” Harry asked abruptly. “Is everything alright ? Draco !”

“Yes,” he answered, sitting up. “I... My mother is okay. My mother is okay...” He repeated in a lower voice.

_What an ass_ , Harry thought to himself. Of course Draco was worried about his loved ones. And of course he all the more acted like a prick when he felt powerless. And, instead of reassuring him, Harry had played along. What an ass...

He sat next to his lover and put an arm around his shoulders.

“Of course she's okay,” he said calmly. “She raised you, I think she's prepared for whatever life may throw her way...”

“Arsehole,” Draco hissed.

However, he didn't shy away from the hug ; he let his head rest on the DADA professor's shoulder.

“She's going to be fine,” Harry promised. “And we are too.”

“I know you're lying,” Draco said. “But you're comfortable, so I'm not completely mad at you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever wondered why I picked this title, here you go.  
> Going back to smut next week 😈
> 
> EDIT 06/06 : Hi folks, I don't think I'll be able to update this week. This bothers me, because yesterday was Draco's birthday and it would have been perfect timing for the next chapter, but I didn't have time to finish translating it (because LIFE).  
> Thank you for your patience, and see you next week !


	5. For you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience ! Here, have some smut as a reward 😘

 

The atmosphere was tense for weeks following the May 2nd attacks. No other assault was reported, but the Auror Department was up in arms : a lot of people were placed under close protection, and Ron and Hermione looked more tired every time Harry checked on them.

The ambience was not any lighter at Hogwarts : following Ron's advice, the two professors barely got out of the castle anymore. Well, to be honest, _Draco_ was advised not to expose himself – but Harry quickly realised that his partner would resent him every time he'd dare go out without him. He still went to visit Teddy once, as well as Bill and Fleur for their son's birth – Louis – but the following days had been particularly stormy. To make it even worse, the dementors' case had been forcefully put on hold, which worsened Draco's mood all the more since he couldn't reassure Shae Hobbes on the progress of the matter.

They were like caged lions, but it was nothing compared to the tabloids' impatience : since they'd photographed them walking together on Diagon Alley in April, the floodgates were open. Every magazine had published an article confirming their relationship, and their appearances were more watched than ever. The shock of the Aguamenti attacks had put their thirst for gossip on hold, but it was waking back up now and the two professors were collapsing under interview requests. Harry put things into perspective by telling himself that they were still more pleasant than threatening mail ; he kept forwarding to the Auror Department every suspicious letter Draco received, but none of the authors had been identified yet.

 

The relationship between the two men was rocky, navigating between the ambient gloom and their sudden sexual outbursts. Harry was surfing as best he could on his lover's mood swings ; it was even more difficult since he wasn't used to dealing with that kind of situation anymore after he'd cut himself off from his feelings after the war. With Draco, he felt like he was standing on thin ice every time he opened his mouth, and he spent his time trying to figure out ways to make it up to him. He didn't know if he'd have been capable of putting up with it with someone else ; Draco never made things easy for him : in the end, that may have been what made him indispensable to Harry.

 

They'd reached an agreement about May's full moon : Draco'd spent the night on his own, but Harry'd joined him as soon as the sun had risen – he wasn't sure he could've handled watching one more transformation. Luckily, it was on a Saturday night and Harry was able to spend the whole Sunday caring for his boyfriend to help him recover from his change – a short break that'd been helpful in the midst of their unstable life. Things had cooled off ever since : the emotion linked to Aguamenti's attacks was slowly fading, the Slytherins had won the Quidditch Cup – elevating Draco's mood a bit – and the upcoming exams had the professors focusing fully on their classes.

 

June was starting, and Harry's evenings were filled with lessons' organisation, to make sure he'd have time to wrap up the programmes, and with practice tests correcting. Draco, slightly less diligent, spent the very same evenings orbiting around him and trying to distract him.

Therefore, that night, sat at his desk, Harry found it quite suspicious that the blond man was leaving him alone. Thinking about it, he'd seemed distant all day, but the former Gryffindor was too used to his mood swings to be concerned about it. He turned to Draco, who was lying on the bed fiddling with a pocket watch that looked particularly expensive.

“Is it new ?” He asked. “I never saw it before.”

“It's normal,” Draco answered with a drawl, “I received it today. Birthday gift from my mother.”

Harry abruptly let go of his quill. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

“It's your birthday ?! But... Why didn't you tell me ?”

“Your never asked when it was, so I just supposed you already knew...” Draco explained somewhat bitterly.

“How was I supposed to guess ?” Harry defended himself to try and hide his embarrassment.

“Yours is July 31st,” Draco simply said, staring him in the eye.

_Fuck._

“I'm so sorry,” Harry said, stepping closer to his lover. “I'll make it up to you. Hey, how about I take you to a nice restaurant next week-end ?” He added, leaning towards him to leave a kiss in his neck.

“Great idea,” Draco replied, pushing him back a little. “Except we're not exactly allowed to be seen in public. _And_ I promised my mother we'd go to the Manor. I checked with the weasel, they'll take care of our security. At least you tried.”

“You promised _we'd_ go ? _We_ as in both of us ? When were you planning on telling me ?”

“When you'd finally wish me a happy birthday. But apparently it's not happening anytime soon...”

“Fuck. Happy birthday. Sorry...”

“You suck _so hard_ at this whole boyfriend thing,” Draco sighed, sitting up. “Do you realise that for _my_ birthday I've arranged for Andromeda to come to the Manor so that _you_ can see your godson ?”

“For real ?”

Harry was surprised, and his discomfort increased with every word that came out of the other man's mouth. Draco went on :

“Yes, for real. So you'd better find me a decent present, Potter.”

“Close your eyes !” Harry instructed, as he just had a stroke of genius. “And no peeking !”

He grabbed his satchel bag – the one with the Extension Charm – and stuck his head in it to try to find what he'd thought of. He hadn't emptied the bag for years and an unspeakable mess reigned there, considerably complicating the search.

_Come on, come on, I know you're in there somewhere... Yes !_

He finally found what he was looking for : Draco's old wand that he kept since Dobby had freed them from the Manor, eight years prior. He wrapped it in a hurry, turning away from Draco then back to him :

“All right, you can open your eyes now !”

Draco raised a disapproving eyebrow when he saw the wrinkled package.

“I was sure you were just going to wrap a ribbon around your cock,” he stated, almost disappointed.

“Crap, I didn't even think about that,” Harry confessed, laughing. “It's not much, but I swear I'll get you a proper present later.”

The Charms professor opened the small box, and his face betrayed him even before he said a single word : his eyes opened wide, and he apparently didn't dare touch the stick of wood.

“Y...You...” He stuttered.

Harry was shocked : he's succeeded in rendering Draco Malfoy speechless. Literally.

“You kept it...” the man eventually said.

“Yeah. But, you know,” Harry explained, “it was really just in ca...”

He didn't finish his sentence : Draco, the gift still in his hands, cut him off with a kiss. A sweet and passionate kiss, like they hadn't shared for too long ; Harry hadn't even realised until then just how much he'd missed it. Draco's lips caressed his own, his tongue brushed them, his teeth nibbled them... And little by little the former Gryffindor felt a smooth languor take over his brain.

“Wow,” he whispered, “had I known this would have this effect on you I'd've given it back to you earlier...”

Draco didn't answer : he laid the package on the nightstand and pushed Harry against the desk. He rid the piece of furniture of its parchment rolls with a wave of his arm – annoying Harry slightly – and sat on it, pulling his lover against him. He wrapped his long legs around Harry's back and kept kissing him while slipping his hands under his shirt. Harry felt the familiar chills go up his spine at the touch of the chilly hands and forgot everything about his lessons' drafts scattered on the floor. He revelled in Draco's kisses, and took the opportunity to run his fingers through the blond hair – the other man only let him do so when he was really aroused, which quickly had made the gesture irresistible to Harry. He slowly moved his hands down to his lover's chest and unbuttoned his vest with application ; he felt like taking his time tonight.

Draco didn't seem to be on the same wavelength, since he took off Harry's shirt in one move to clear the way for his eager fingers. The former Gryffindor slowed down the action as much as he could, roaming the offered neck with his lips as he kept calmly undoing the clothes that still separated him from the pale torso. As soon as he undid the last button on the shirt, Draco took it off himself before he unzipped his own pants in a hurry.

“What's the rush ?” Harry couldn't help but ask, smiling.

“I want you,” the Charms professor simply explained, kissing him passionately. “Ugh, I bump into your glasses every bloody time,” he accused at once.

Harry laughed :

“I think that's a reasonable price to pay for allowing me to see you clearly, though.”

“A reasonable price ?” Draco noted, stealing the glasses to put them on his own pointy nose. “You'll see, in about two minutes you'll ask me to take them off.”

Harry's vision was quite blurry, but adjusting the distance between him and his lover he was able to discern his face :

“All right. There's no way I'm asking you that : you look too damn hot like this...”

He took Draco's lower lip between his own – bumping his nose miserably into the spectacles frame on the way – and stroked it with the tip of his tongue, making his partner tense up in an enjoyable way. His hands caressed Draco's shoulders, his back, his chest, then went slowly down his stomach towards his pants.

“Will you take it off already ?” Malfoy asked in a whisper. “You're driving me crazy...”

“If you insist,” Harry murmured, amused.

Draco immediately shifted his weight on his arms to allow Harry to take off the pants and underwear that bothered him so much.

“Yours too,” he added once it was done.

Harry did as he was told, deploring the speed at which things were going but fully enjoying the vision of his lover sitting entirely naked on his desk. Draco flashed him a satisfied smile and hugged his hips with his slender legs again. Resting on his forearms, he began waving his own hips to rub his pelvis against Harry's, and the latter exhaled with pleasure at the touch as well as at the sight of the blond man biting his lower lip, large glasses still on. The former Gryffindor couldn't look away : he wanted to keep in mind that slightly blurry but still perfect picture – fantasy at its purest. Giving in to his partner's impatience, he took hold of both of their cocks and started stroking back and forth slowly, following the rhythm set by Draco's hips. Malfoy exulted against him, proud of successfully getting Harry to speed things up a little.

After a few minutes looking each other in the eye – squinting, really, because none of them could see clearly – Draco stopped moving and sat up, drawing his lover nearer to kiss him. Harry hit the glasses once more, which made Draco smirk against his lips :

“See ?”

“Wrong estimation of distances,” Harry justified with a more virulent hand gesture that got him an involuntary moan from Draco.

The DADA professor took the opportunity to caress his lover's tongue with his own, initiating a voracious kiss that met the growing speed of the masturbation.

When Draco put two fingers in Harry's mouth for him to moisten, the former Gryffindor was surprised to find that they weren't meant for him. The blond man rested on one elbow, slipped his hand between the two of them, and started preparing himself, on his own, while staring defiantly at his boyfriend.

“Do you want to...” Harry asked awkwardly.

“I want _you_ ,” Draco corrected, confident. “I want to feel you inside of me. Do you ?” He asked, arching his back to give better access to his fingers. “Do you want me ?”

Harry swallowed heavily, both troubled and extremely turned on by what was happening :

“Yeah,” he said. “You have no idea just how much...” He added a little less sheepishly.

“So, what are you waiting for ?” Malfoy pointed, seemingly very pleased with the confusion he was causing him.

Harry turned around to grab the lube in his bedside cabinet, and saw as he turned back that Draco had already made three fingers disappear up his intimacy – a true magic trick in so little time and with nothing more than his saliva. He kept himself from complimenting him, afraid that the bad taste of the comment would change his mind about what was about to happen.

Harry leaned towards his lover to kiss him on the lips, then on the jaw, the collarbone, and so on until he reached his lower belly. He repeated inside the white thighs, before he let his tongue slide along the length of the erect cock.

“Fuck me,” Draco ordered, flinching.

Harry didn't make him wait any longer : he smeared lube on his own cock and gently pressed the head against the expecting hole. Penetration was surprisingly easy and Harry stopped for a second, his hands gripping his partner's legs, to enjoy the warm sucking feeling he'd long forgotten. He was inside Malfoy for the very first time, and it felt delicious. He pushed slowly and his pubic hair finally met the blond man's skin ; Draco arched his back and exhaled with satisfaction.

He didn't seem to be surprised by the sensation, nor to be in pain, and the former Gryffindor considered for the first time that it may not have been Draco's. They'd never spoken about it, but based on their dynamics Harry pictured him as an eternal top – either he got it wrong, or Draco had unsuspected acting skills. In any case, he encouraged Harry to get going, and the latter was soon sliding inside of him, focusing hard to prevent his arousal from ending things prematurely. Draco didn't make it easy for him : his stomach was deflating and inflating in waves, along with every thrust, and it was the most sensual thing Harry had ever witnessed. Draco was not even supposed to be his type, but everything about him definitely drove Harry crazy.

The former Slytherin looked insatiable : his legs around Harry, he rocked his hips in rhythm, intensifying the contact by making their fevered bodies collide. His hands roamed Harry's torso and shoulders, clinging to them from time to time, whenever pleasure made him moan.

“Hold on tight,” Harry soon advised, bending over him.

Draco laced his fingers behind the other man's neck and tightened his grip when Harry grabbed his butt to lift him against his body. He kissed him long and slow before he pressed him against the nearest wall and went back to thrusting more and more frantically. They were both panting loudly, in unison, and soon Draco's breath turned into hoarse cries as his whole body tensed up around Harry. The latter couldn't believe it : he hadn't touched his prick for at least ten minutes, and yet Draco was about to come. The blond man reached orgasm with jerky groans, holding his lover with all his might. Harry was taken by surprise by the contractions the trembling body was exerting on his cock, and after a few seconds he came too with an unexpected intensity.

“Thank you,” he heard himself gasp with ecstasy.

 

It took him at least a minute to come back to his senses. When he looked back up, Draco was glaring at him with disgust :

“ _Thank you_ ? Seriously ? Do I strike you as a prostitute ?! Put me back down.”

“Wait,” Harry babbled, taking back his glasses and trying to grab the tissue box on the bedside cabinet.

He took advantage of the caused delay to try and explain :

“That's not what I meant... Sorry...”

“You spend your life apologising. You may want to try not acting like a twat so often, sounds like a better alternative,” Draco rebuffed him, prying the tissue box out of his hands to wipe himself.

“Oh, stop it,” Harry retorted, putting his feet back on the floor, “don't tell me you never said anything stupid in the heat of the moment.”

Seeing that Draco kept silent, Harry told himself that he may have a chance to save himself.

“So ?” He insisted.

“That's not the same,” the former Slytherin muttered as he finished cleaning up.

“Is that so ? Tell me.”

“That's stupid, forget it. I'm going to take a shower.”

Draco was clearly annoyed as he disappeared in the bathroom, but Harry couldn't help but mess with him – he could feel that the story was just the right amount of awkward, and the blond man was already mad anyway : he didn't have much to lose.

“Let me guess,” he shouted from the bedroom : “you said _I love you_ to a stranger.”

“No. Leave me alone.”

“You shouted _Mom_.”

“No ! You're fucking disgusting !”

“You called him by the wrong name.”

“...”

“Is that it ?” Harry gloated.

“I told you to back off,” Draco shouted from the bathroom.

Harry stepped in the doorway :

“Come on, please,” he said, smiling. “You see : it's ridiculous, what we say in those moments don't mean anything.”

“That doesn't prove a thing,” Draco argued. “Even if I happened to say the wrong name once – which I'm not saying I did – what makes you think that it didn't mean anything ?”

At these words, Harry had an epiphany :

“That's my name.”

“What ?” Draco asked, blushing hard.

“That's my name you screamed to another man,” the former Gryffindor stated.

“Oh, get over yourself !”

“In the meantime, I don't hear you protesting,” Harry bragged.

“It's... Shut up. It would never have happened if you didn't have the brilliant idea to come out publicly that week !”

Harry couldn't shake off his silly grin :

“First, the paparazzis outed me, that wasn't my choice. And second, I think you're adorable.”

“Stop it,” Draco ordered, face red.

“I won't,” Harry taunted him. “You love me way too much to resent me anyway, might as well let me slip in the shower with you...”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Draco had spent the rest of the week sarcastically thanking Harry every time he kissed him, but apart from that the incident was quickly forgotten.

The following Saturday, the DADA professor had to give up his lie-in to go look for a decent present for his partner in London. The idea came to him one night as he watched Draco write in his old journal : the blond man wrote quite a lot, but Harry never got to know if it was therapeutic or just a hobby. Whichever it was, Draco spent entire evenings filling pages, and Harry thought that it was about time to show him that there were options way more convenient than the quill to do it. He selected a beautiful night blue journal adorned with golden illuminations and a luxury fountain pen – golden, too – that costed him about a month's salary. There was no room for mistakes : the muggle present was already a risky choice, if he wanted to be forgiven for his indelicacy he had to pay the price.

He came back to the castle at noon and only then did he start to realise what he was going to do that afternoon. He was going to Malfoy Manor. For the first time since Dobby's death. He was going to spend the day with Narcissa... His stomach turned unpleasantly at the thought, and he was unable to eat a single bite at lunch. Draco, on the other hand, was over the moon : he was about to leave the castle for the first time in over a month, and he seemed to gather strength by binging on lemon pie. He'd noticed Harry's mood swing, but it seemed to amuse him more than anything else :

“What was it that you told me the first time you dragged me to Andromeda's ? Oh, yeah : _If you don't want to come back after that it's your decision, but at least give her the benefit of the doubt..._ ”

“Shut it, Malfoy, it's different...”

“Is it, now ?” Draco said, smirking. “Go ahead, explain to me how.”

“Andromeda never locked you in her basement with the intention of killing you,” Harry retorted spitefully.

Draco abruptly let go of his fork and glared at him. Silence felt heavy all of a sudden – Harry suspected their colleagues were eavesdropping even more than usual.

“Seriously ? We're back to this again ?”

“I can't help it,” Harry apologised in a hushed voice. “That's the place where Dobby was killed, where Hermione was tortured, where I thought none of us was going to make it... I don't know if I can do it.”

“ _I_ can still do it,” Draco answered even lower to keep the conversation to themselves. “And, believe me, I have a handful of bad memories there too...”

Harry looked up into his eyes ; he wanted to insist, but he knew the discussion wasn't getting anywhere. It was useless.

“Only because it's for you,” he mumbled.

“Tell me about it,” Draco retorted, “I know damn well that Teddy's the one you want to see the most.”

He shot him a smile, and Harry suspected him of mentioning his godson for the sole purpose of cheering him up – but he'd never openly accuse him of such kindness.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

They'd just apparated on the long, sun-bathed alley, and the sight of the large gates immediately turned the former Gryffindor's stomach upside-down – he prized himself for not having eaten a thing before they left. They walked towards the two Aurors standing on each side of the way and whose names they didn't know, and Draco took off the invisibility cloak. Harry thanked the men for ensuring their safety while the Malfoy heir stated their identities to the frightening face now formed by the wrought-iron bars. The gates swung open, and an few extra pounds of lead weighed on Harry's guts as they were both walking between the high hedges. There were no more peacocks along the way ; Harry remembered Draco had claimed having killed them all – maybe he wasn't just trying to shock him after all. Harry must have slowed down without realising it, because his partner took his hand to encourage him :

“We're just taking tea...”

Harry just nodded rigidly and strived to speed up. The manor was now right in front of them, and each stride on the stone steps necessitated a considerable effort. _Fuck_ , he thought : he'd fought the most evil wizard of his time and now he was afraid of going in a blasted house... He tightened his grip on Draco's hand in spite of himself when they passed the heavy doors that had opened on their own, revealing the entrance hall and its collection of austere portraits.

Thankfully, his anxiety dropped down when Teddy came out of the drawing room running ; Harry missed his colourful mop of hair a little, but he was touched to see that he'd went for the “Malfoy blond” once more. Despite Draco's newly acquired preferred status, Harry still got hugged first – until the boy remembered why they were here, at least :

“Happy birthday, Draco !”

“Thanks, rug rat !” The Charms professor answered, ruffling his hair.

“I brought my New Comet !” He added instantly.

“Teddy !” Andromeda scolded him, entering the hall, “you're being very rude !”

“Not at all,” Draco intervened with a wink to the child. “After all, I promised him last time that we'd take it for a run.”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart !” She answered, giving him a loud kiss on the cheek.

Harry kept from laughing in the face of his lover's embarrassment as he was drawn in an unsolicited embrace himself.

“Happy birthday, Draco,” he heard saying way more coldly on his right.

“Thank you, Mother.”

The kiss was more restrained, and Harry's stomach reminded him of its existence when Narcissa turned to him and held out her hand :

“Mister Potter...”

“Good afternoon, Mrs Malfoy,” he said as he shook her hand awkwardly.

Seeing Draco's appalled expression, he added in a rush :

“Erm... Thank you for welcoming me in your house.”

He saw Draco shake his head as his mother was leading them towards the drawing room.

“What ?” Harry asked in a hushed voice.

“A kiss on the hand, Potter... You were supposed to give her a kiss on the hand...”

“Well, next time, you'll tell me beforehand...”

They settled in the drawing room where five armchairs had been disposed in front of the massive fireplace, around a small table on which two wrapped gifts and three half-empty teacups were sitting. The hostess snapped her fingers and a silver platter apparated on it, filled with two additional cups, a steaming teapot and an assortment of biscuits. Harry spared a thought for the house elves who must've bustled in the kitchens to provide this snack : their rights had evolved, but the old families' habits were hard to break.

A family portrait was watching them from the opposite wall, and Harry felt as uncomfortable at the sight of Lucius as the Draco painted next to him, on the shoulder of whom laid an authoritarian hand. Harry forced himself to look away, and his eyes stopped on the large crystal chandelier in the centre of the room, obviously restored after their escape, years prior. At this memory, the former Gryffindor looked in spite of himself at the dark passageway that he knew led to the cellar ; a lightning bolt shot through his ribcage, suddenly paralysing his lungs. The touch of Draco's hand on his knee made him come back to his senses, and as brief as it was it helped him shut down the panic that was taking over him and focus on the present.

Harry was now in the same position as Teddy : sitting calmly, trying his best not to get berated because he'd have failed in an obscure aristocratic code of conduct. Truth be told, his godson was way more relaxed than he was : Andromeda had to call him to order more than once because he was monopolising the conversation. Seriously bored and afraid that his anxiety would rise again, Harry started after a few minutes a silent grimacing contest with the child, taking advantage of every moment the grown-ups were looking away to try and make him laugh. In spite of the clear advantage granted by his adversary's metamorphmagus' gift, Harry succeeded first ; unfortunately, he soon realised that what made Teddy laugh so hard was not his tongue almost reaching his nose as he crossed his eyes, but the fact that three pairs of appalled eyes were looking their way. Draco cleared his throat loudly, making him understand without a word that that he'd make him pay for his behaviour later.

“So,” he said in a cold voice, “Mother was asking what you got me for my birthday...”

“Erm...” Harry babbled, blushing. “You can find out right now !”

He took the presents he bought that morning out of his bag and gave them to Draco, carefully avoiding his eye. The blond man unwrapped them methodically, making Harry's uncertainty last a little bit longer with every gesture. Once it was done, he examined the gifts thoroughly while his boyfriend was awkwardly justifying his choice :

“Since you enjoy writing, I thought... You know. And I know it's a muggle pen, but you'll see, it's way more convenient. With... Ink. And everything...”

“Good idea,” Draco eventually stated. “They're beautiful objects, thank you.”

Harry finally breathed as Narcissa approvingly studied the expensive pen in turn.

“My turn !” Teddy yelled, giving his package to his cousin.

The unwrapping ended in a good mood (Draco received a quidditch glove and a silver curb chain engraved with his initials), and the atmosphere lightened as the stack of biscuits reduced. The last of them had barely left the platter when Teddy directed imploring eyes at his grandmother.

“Go on, ask them, then,” she yielded.

“Draco, can we go fly my new broomstick ? Please, please, please !”

“Sure,” said the blond man immediately. “Plus, I have a brand new seeker glove to try out.”

The three wizards went out of the house in a hurry, Andromeda and Narcissa following them from afar, and caught Draco's quidditch gear in the small cabin next to the pitch that bordered the Malfoys' private woods.

“You have your own quidditch pitch in you garden ?” Harry noted, both mocking and envious.

“Of course I do. How do you think I got so good ?” Draco bragged.

“And yet, that doesn't keep me from kicking your arse every time we play...”

Draco stared at him defiantly, and a few seconds later the three of them were in the air. Teddy was over the moon, and they spent the rest of the afternoon teaching him their best moves – well, those that weren't too dangerous for an eight years old, at least. He was good, and Harry found himself day-dreaming about the days his godson would get in Hogwarts and he'd be able to cheer for him from the stands.

The Black sisters were sitting in garden chairs right next to the pitch, and Andromeda had taken out the camera she used to fill Teddy's photo album. She made them pose when they landed, in spite of their protests.

“Get ready, Teddy, it's time to go home !”

“So soon ?” The boy despaired. “But I wanted to stay with Harry and Draco...”

“You know,” Harry said, “we'll be going home too pretty soon. But the summer holidays start in three weeks, we'll be able to see each other more often.”

“Okay...” Teddy gave in with a drawl.

Harry smiled without even meaning to : he was starting to notice the family resemblance his godson shared with Draco.

They all walked back to the manor and, once the Tonks had left using the Floo Network, Narcissa turned to her son :

“I had your room prepared, but I understand from Mr Potter that you don't wish to stay.”

“Thank you, Mother, but we only planned on staying for the afternoon. A lot of work to do before the year ends.”

“Fine,” Narcissa answered. “I suppose we'll meet again in three weeks, then. Don't forget to bring your presents.”

They stepped out on that note that Harry would have described as icy. He didn't dare speak until they'd nearly reached the gates :

“Why did you lie ? Don't ask me to believe that you intend to work on your lessons tomorrow...”

“I'm trying to save you the embarrassment of telling her we're not staying because you cower at the thought of sleeping in her home...”

“Hilarious... But thanks anyway. I guess.”

The two Aurors who were on watch duty when they arrived were still there, and Harry exchanged pleasantries with them for a bit before he handed Draco the invisibility cloak that would allow him to apparate at Hogsmeade safely.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Once in the small village Harry started chatting, looking like he was talking to himself – luckily the students' curfew was up, otherwise he would've lost quite some credibility.

“So, we're free tonight after all : maybe I can still buy you dinner ?”

“I'm walking around under an invisibility cloak by order of the ministry, and you're trying to display me in a public space ?” Draco's disembodied voice retorted at his left. “Just admit it, you're part of the conspiracy to execute me...”

“Don't say that,” Harry scolded him. “In a muggle place we'd be incognito, it limits the risk.”

They were a few feet away from Hogwarts' gates, and Harry barely had time to realise something was off when he received a shock in the back and felt his whole body petrify. His arms snapped to his sides, and he fell on his back without being able to do anything about it. The impact was brutal, but he remained conscious.

“Harry ?” He heard Draco call.

He wanted to tell him to shut up, to stay under the cloak whatever happened, but his jaw wouldn't respond. A second voice, muffled, raised behind him :

“Mister Potter, we don't want to hurt you. We know that the Malfoy son is with you. He just has to show himself and no harm will come to you.”

“ _No harm will come to you_ ” ?! Who did they think they were ? How many of them were there, by the way ? Harry was boiling : wherever he looked there was nothing but the sky, which he was condemned to look at without knowing anything that was happening around him.

“Accio invisibility cloak !” Shouted a feminine voice.

“Noobs,” Harry thought : his cloak didn't respond to such charms. However, if they came up with the idea of using _Homenum Revelio_ Draco would be spotted. Harry was focusing to try and hear his partner's footsteps, to know where he was, but no clue came to him.

Suddenly, he heard a heavy weigh collapse a few feet away from him. For a second that seemed to stretch forever, every one of his bodily functions was on hold : his brain paused everything to focus on the outside events. Someone had fallen. Friend or foe ?

Several voices shouted :

“It came from there !”

“Get him !”

“Lobalug, watch out !”

Alright. Draco had attacked, still hidden by the cloak. Probably.

Spells were flying left and right behind Harry : he heard them strike randomly, sometimes hitting their target if he was to believe the surprised screams he heard. Voices were fading one by one, until there was only one left :

“Show yourself, you coward !” The first man Harry'd heard yelled.

The man that had attacked him in the back along with at least three people was calling Draco a coward because he was defending himself. He didn't see his face but he already loathed the man. The fight was still going on around him ; the spells were nonverbal but their impacts allowed Harry to keep track.

A striking noise on the ground : target missed.

Running footsteps : Draco was moving to hide himself.

Another missed mark, but not from a lot according to the footsteps close by.

Silence.

A hex hitting a tree trunk.

A muffled shout ; Draco's voice.

_Fuck._

Harry had to free himself from the Body-Bind Curse, he wasn't going to lie there while the man he loved was being executed. He solicited every nerve, pulled on each of his useless muscles, but nothing worked. He could have cried from rage and frustration. Suddenly, the sound of a body falling down ; he forced more than ever on the invisible ties, but it was in vain.

“Moronic cunts,” Draco cursed as he took off the cloak, bending over him.

Harry had never been this happy to hear him complain.

The blond man freed him from the binding curse before turning back to the attackers. Harry followed him ; there were five people lying on the ground, all hiding their faces under a scarf. Five against one, Draco wasn't that rusty – even if being invisible definitely gave him a head start. By the time Harry joined him, he'd already picked up all the wands and gathered the assailants to tie them up together so that they wouldn't be able to escape once the _Stupefy_ effects wore off.

“You screamed earlier,” Harry said. “Did they hit you ? Are you hurt ?”

“A Trip Jinx, I stumbled against a tree... That moron fought like a twelve years old,” Draco stated, leaning over a stubby man. “I'll wake one up to interrogate him.”

“No,” Harry stopped him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “That's the Aurors' job, I'm calling Ron.”

He didn't wait for an answer and summoned his Patronus to send him looking for his friend immediately.

“The Aurors sure were useful to us, on this one,” Draco criticised as he watched the silver stag take off at full speed.

“They can't be everywhere,” Harry justified.

“Tell me, how many times were you attacked when you went out on your own ?”

“None,” Harry answered without understanding his point.

“And, for someone who didn't know what was happening, what was different this time ? I was completely concealed, and we didn't speak loud enough for anyone to hear us. It wasn't random : they wouldn't have assaulted you on a hunch. They wouldn't have sent five attackers on a guess.”

“What do you mean ?” Harry frowned. He now simply refused to understand.

“That they knew. And that outside from my mother and my aunt, only the Aurors knew. And maybe Longbottom, but honestly I'd have less of a hard time believing my own mother sold me out.”

“You can't seriously think that...”

“We know at least one Auror that hates my guts... And if you don't believe that Detective Bully or one of his quieter colleagues had anything to do with this, it means that our mail is being watched.”

Harry didn't have time to answer : a loud _crack_ announced that three Aurors just apparated, Ron on the lead. The redhead rushed towards him :

“Are you okay ?”

“Yeah, Draco handled them,” Harry explained.

“What's that, can't fight for yourself, professor Potter ?” Ron taunted him.

“I was petrified, you twat,” Harry grumbled.

“Oi, it's _Auror_ Twat, if you please. Malfoy, what are you doing out here in the open ?” he went on, turning to the blond man.

“Waiting for you to arrest the blokes that attacked me when I was under your protection, _Auror Twat,_ ” Draco spat.

Harry instinctively put his hand on his wand : things were quickly getting out of hand...

“All right,” Ron seemed to control himself. “What happened ?”

Draco recounted the fight in detail while one of the Aurors was taking his deposition. They then proceeded to take the scarves off the still unconscious attackers' faces, but the professors didn't recognise any of them.

“Well,” Ron concluded, “we'll get them all to the ministry. Wake them up, guys, we're done here.”

“Weasley,” Draco called him back. “do you trust everyone in your team ?”

Harry swore silently : Ron had kept things civil until now, but if Malfoy pushed too hard there would be nothing Harry could do to ease the situation.

“Why are you asking ?” Ron questioned suspiciously.

“Because no one else knew that I was going out today. And they wouldn't've showed up in numbers if they weren't sure they'd find me here.”

“Are you accusing my Aurors of orchestrating the assault ?” Ron clarified, frowning.

“All I'm saying is that they knew. And I'd like for you to take every lead into account when you go looking how that happened.”

Ron shot him a disgusted glare but didn't comment :

“I'll let you know when we discover more,” he added before he disapparated with his staff and their prisoners.

 

 

 


	6. Devil

 

“ _The Quidditch Cup ? You were attacked less than a month ago and you want to go to the Quidditch Cup ? You're completely reckless. You heard what Ron said : if the Hogsmeade gang were really a part of Aguamenti it means that you're their main target and they kept quiet before that just to get you to let your guard down. Damn it, the Quidditch Cup... I wouldn't even let you go there with a full body armour on._

 

_I'm busy all day long, here : I babysit Rose, Andromeda sent Teddy over to visit me again the other day, Ron and Hermione have a billion things to tell me during the few hours they spend home, and yet I'm bored. I know you're going to laugh at me but I couldn't care less : I'm bored without you. I'm sorry you can't go out, and I'm sorry I can't bring myself to come to the Manor. It's more than I can handle. But don't think for a second that I don't miss you._

 

_I love you._

 

_Harry”_

 

Draco pounced on Harry's reply as soon as it arrived. The other man was right : he was clearly going to give him shit about this emotional display, but he had to admit that he felt desperately lonely too. With the end of the school year, he'd been secluded in the Manor for a week with close to no right to get out. Since he was not welcome at Weasley and Granger's and Harry didn't feel welcome at the Manor, they were out of options to see each other. It'd only been a week and Draco couldn't stand it anymore.

The worst part was : it wasn't even sexual. That lack, he could take care of on his own. No, what he missed were silly little details, like the scent of Harry's hair, the way he had of straightening his glasses with the back of his index finger when he was focusing on reading a piece of parchment, the multitude of tiny freckles that covered his shoulders which Draco kissed before he went to sleep, his habit of putting the tip of his feet on Draco's to be as close to him as possible when they hugged... _Stop it_ , he had to focus on anything else.

 

The identity of the people that'd attacked him on his birthday had not been confirmed. Their names and fingerprints had been documented, but they didn't have criminal records. There was no proof they'd committed any crime, and Aguamenti hadn't claimed responsibility : they'd been released the same day. However, Draco remained convinced that they were linked to the terrorist organisation, because the assaults had started again since then and the weasel's theory was plausible : they attacked en masse on May 2nd to make an impression, then they kept a low profile to get him to be careless and thus be easily reached. Now that he got a wake-up call they knew the strategy wouldn't work twice and they were hitting the other targets without further delay. They'd caused several hospital stays, and another death – a poor bloke that had been placed under the Imperius Curse to participate in the convictions of muggle-borns and half-bloods during the war.

 

Draco knew all of this : he knew how much danger he'd be in outside, and he knew how much of a target he was. But he had several reasons to want to go to the Quidditch Euro Cup that would take place near London the next week-end. First, he wanted to. And that should have been enough ; he'd been running in circles at the Manor for a week and each passing day made him feel like Aguamenti had won already : they'd taken away his life. So, if he wanted to go out, he felt like it was his duty to do so, if only to show them that they wouldn't get to him this easily. A lot of things could be blamed on the Malfoys, but if they were good at anything it was to do whatever they wanted to without giving a flying fuck about what they were told.

Then, it was a test : he'd argued with Harry more than once on that matter, but he was convinced that the information of his presence at Hogsmeade that day had come from the Auror Department. And if it didn't, it meant that someone was reading his mail. So, Draco was very careful to write to Harry about it in his last letter, specifically asking him not to tell Weasley about it. The next Saturday, he'd finally find out what the situation was.

 

He grabbed the fountain pen Harry had bought him and started a new letter :

 

“ _An England – Wales final, do you know when was the last time that happened ?! I already have my ticket anyway, so it's up to you : either I go alone at my own risk, or you come along and we both attend from the Top Box and benefit from its security measures (if anyone can get us Top tickets it's Saint-Potter-The-Boy-Who-Lived-So-Many-Times-We-Stopped-Counting-And-Saved-All-Of-Our-Arses...). And, one more time, leave Weasley out of this. Plus, none of the attacks occurred in a public space, and we'll be hidden in the crowd : that's enough protection._

_And if the final isn't that appealing to you, I hope I am. I want to see you, and it can happen a week from now if you loosen up a bit. Just think about everything you could go back to in seven tiny days..._

 

 

_Draco”_

 

There. A dose of ultimatum, a hint of logic, and a handful of hormones. A perfect cocktail. And a touch of lie, too : Draco didn't buy a ticket, but he thought that blackmailing tastefully sublimated his tactic.

He didn't know what to do while waiting for the DADA professor's reply. He usually didn't have to wait long, but some days Harry was overwhelmed by his babysitting and left him hanging on. On Tuesday, Teddy had left him a note at the end of his godfather's letter, which made the wait more forgivable. But apart from that, Draco didn't like it when Harry put anything before him. He was stuck at the Manor, condemned to be bored to death, so it was the former Gryffindor's duty to entertain him. Or, at the very least, to have the decency of being bored too. At least this time Harry didn't get in the newspaper, that was progress : seeing a picture of him sharing a drink with his ex-boyfriend during the previous holidays had made Draco's stomach boil, even if they hadn't mentioned exclusivity at the time. This time he knew that he was at his friends', not drinking anything more than pumpkin juice with his godson.

A great horned owl tapped on the window five minutes later, and Draco congratulated himself for the speed at which Harry replied : he'd successfully got his attention. But why did he use a different owl ? He quickly had the answer : that wasn't Harry's handwriting.

 

“ _Draco,_

 

_What would you say about taking advantage of the Floo liaison between here and the Manor to come and visit us, today ? Teddy really wants to see you, and if you need to go out from home for a bit we have a guest room where you could spend the night. If you're not doing anything you can come right now : I managed to keep Teddy busy this morning but he asked for you a bunch of times._

_Send my regards to Narcissa._

 

_Love,_

 

_Andromeda”_

 

Perfect : he would finally get out of here. It was strange to think that he'd feel less confined in a small house than in a manor, but his own home depressed him at the moment.

Plus, time would go by way more quickly with an eight years old to take care of.

And it would probably leave him less time to think about said kid's godfather.

He scribbled his answer directly at the end of Andromeda's letter :

 

“ _Thank you, Andromeda. I gladly take your offer, just give me some time to gather a few things for the night and I'll be here.”_

 

He tied the note back to the owl's leg and watched it fly away before he started filling a bag. After he notified his mother, who expressed nothing more than a moderate interest at the news, he threw a handful of Floo Powder in the massive fireplace and let the Network carry him. A little nausea later, he'd reached his destination.

Against all odds, he wasn't welcomed by a breathtakingly rough hug from his little cousin when he leaned to get out of the hearth, but by a way softer embrace from Harry. He quickly checked that they were alone in the living room before he hugged him back ; Harry put his toes on the tip of his feet and Draco smiled fondly, burying his nose in the black hair. Merlin, did he miss him...

“I guess this means you won't be answering my letter,” Draco said.

“Shh, hold me just a little bit longer before you start biting my head off,” Harry growled.

Draco humoured him before he took a step back to lay a kiss on his lover's lips.

“You missed me so much that you took a day off from your babysitting gig to come see me ?” he asked. “You're such a softy...”

“And I'm here all week-end long,” Harry announced, deliberately ignoring the snark. “Are you staying the night ?”

“I wasn't sure until this very moment. But it would take an army to make me leave, now...”

“Really ?” Harry noted with a indecent smile that made the blond man blush hard.

“Stop it !” Draco asked softly. “Where are Andromeda and Teddy ?”

“In the back garden,” Harry said, cupping his face with one hand and stroking his cheek lightly. “She wanted to give us a few minutes of privacy.”

He took Draco's head with both hands and kissed him more deeply.

“Ready to see the monster ?”

Draco raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“Teddy. I meant Teddy...” Harry specified in a tired voice.

 

As intended, Teddy jumped in his arms as soon as they stepped foot in the garden. After five minutes, Andromeda had already put a lemonade bottle in his hand, Teddy was telling him how his holidays were going speaking so fast that he only understood every other word, and Harry was watching them with a smile that he found way too cute. The contrast with the Manor was violent ; he felt like he was on another planet, and at the same time it felt like home.

Until today, he only ever visited with Harry for tea, and they usually stayed on the couch chatting and playing Wizard's Chess. That day, though, Teddy seemed to have decided to initiate him to muggle hobbies, which definitely made him leave his comfort zone. For starters, the three of them played “ _football_ ”, which was boring and way messier than needed be in Draco's opinion. Even back when he worked at the ministry he never heard of such a dull sport ; of course, the fact that that stupid ball kept being stolen from him every two minutes under Harry's taunts didn't really help him enjoy it. He was relieved when it started raining and Andromeda commanded them to go inside.

After a well deserved snack, Harry and his godson settled on the couch, in front of the television screen. Draco knew what it was : there were some in the muggle pubs and clubs he used to go to fairly often, and in general they showed very attractive people dancing on upbeat music. Limited value. However, he got curious when the boys caught two machines connected by wires to a blue box under the telly. They turned the device on, and a very irritating music filled the living room.

“Have you ever played video games ?” Teddy asked, turning to him.

He shook his head no.

“You'll see,” Harry said. “You're going to love it.”

Draco was sceptical seeing the animated characters appearing on the screen : the aesthetics were as deplorable as the acoustics. He sank into the couch to watch. Harry and Teddy apparently made the vehicle in which their colourful characters were sitting move using the machines they were holding ( _controllers,_ they called them), all the while shouting incomprehensible orders to each other like “ _watch out for the red shell !_ ” or “ _throw a banana !_ ”... _Muggles really are a special breed_ , Draco thought as he watched them get mad on the device's buttons. Upon seeing the way he looked at them at the end of the first race, they decided to fully explain the game to him. It wasn't much clearer. After a few more races, Harry gave him his controller so that he could try :

“You only have to worry about the directions, Teddy's handling the items,” he specified.

He showed him the purpose of each button, and the race started. Merlin, it was more complicated than it looked. And more fun, too...

“You know,” Harry said after two laps, “You don't have to tilt the controller to turn, only the joystick works...”

“Fuck off,” he spat, concentrating hard, owing himself a harsh scolding from Andromeda who was reading the newspaper not far off.

He had to admit the game was absorbing : he refused to give the controller back to Harry before he'd tried several circuits, with the help of his cousin who knew every map like the back of his hand. After an hour or so, he was wondering why on Earth wizards didn't come up with their own version of the game ; it was the most addictive hobby he'd ever tried. Well, not counting sex, because that was out of competition.

“We need one of those,” he eventually told Harry.

“You know electric devices don't work at Hogwarts,” he explained, embarrassed. “Magic keeps electricity from working properly. It's all right here, because we're the most magical stuff around, but in the castle there's no way...”

“I know,” Draco muttered, vexed that he'd think he didn't know that. “You spend too much time with Granger : you're a buzzkill, even by professors' standards...”

“You're a professor too,” Harry pointed out.

“True, but I also happen to be awesome. Students love me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry scoffed, “and that has nothing to do with your looks, either... Ever noticed the packs of giggling girls looking at us when we cross a hallway ?”

“That's for you,” Draco corrected. He was long used to the fans' reactions to the Saviour's apparitions.

“Never happens when I'm on my own,” Harry confessed, smiling.

“So,” Andromeda interrupted them. “When you're done figuring out which one of you is the prettiest, maybe you'll be as kind as lending me a hand with dinner.”

“I'm on it !” The former Gryffindor said, rushing to the kitchen.

Draco didn't even consider following him. Instead, he turned to Teddy :

“All right, do you have anything else to show me in the game ?”

“Well, there's the Rainbow Road, but it's super hard, it's almost impossible to win races.”

“Don't sweat it, Rug Rat, I'm big on rainbows...”

Teddy selected the course, oblivious to the quip, but Draco was deeply satisfied to hear Harry chuckling next door.

 

He actually did quite well on the special track, but race after race he was losing his focus in favour of the open kitchen door in front of them, from which he could see Harry hand-chopping vegetables and seasoning food for dinner. Draco couldn't've explained why, but the sight was turning him on way more than it should have.

He was forcefully assigned to table-setting, but the following dinner was worth the trouble after all. After a few bites, he dared ask :

“Harry, how do you know how to cook ? I mean, you've been living at Hogwarts since you were eleven, house elves do literally everything for you...”

The other man appeared to be surprised by the question, but the matter genuinely confused Draco : himself never had to cook anything in his whole life, and even if it was to happen it would be at a great deal of magic.

“I had to cook at the muggles',” he explained calmly.

“When you were a kid ?” Draco wondered.

He didn't hear a lot about his partner's early years, but knowing that he used to perform a task as a child that himself felt incapable of completing as an adult bothered him.

“Yes,” Harry confirmed, “then it became a way to thank Ron and Hermione for letting me stay there. And Andromeda, too, whenever I spend the week-end here.”

“He usually gets help from Teddy,” she went on, “but today he seemed to have better things to do.”

The boy's hair turned bright red under his Nanny's accusing stare, but Harry started laughing and picking on them about their obsession for the video game.

Draco felt comfortable in that house, and even once Teddy had to go to sleep the three adults kept chatting for a long time, about everything and nothing, like it was a routine they'd been following for years.

 

When the two professors were finally alone in their bedroom – which was small and poorly lit, but all that Draco asked for was that it was private – Harry jumped in his arms to kiss him passionately.

“Don't think I'm going to forget about the Quidditch Cup this easily,” Draco stopped him.

“You're a pain in the arse, Harry sighed. “We're finally together, isn't that what you wanted ?”

“Of course it was. But that doesn't mean I won't go to the game. The only question is : will you go with me ?”

“And even if I gave in, how on Earth do you expect me to get tickets this late ?”

“You slept with thirty per cent of the welsh team, it should help,” Draco taunted him.

“Excuse me ?!” Harry jumped, obviously outraged.

“Well, two out of seven, that's a good score,” the blond man kept going. “Granted, it goes down to one quarter if you include the manager...”

He wasn't lying : Weaslette and Darren Floyd were both part of the Welsh National Team. However, he didn't expect Harry to get upset over the remark.

“You're such a cunt,” Potter cursed, turning to fumble in his bag.

“Don't get me wrong, I don't give a shite about that. I, for one, sucked about half of Soho's knobs... Just don't use false pretences to refuse, please. Seriously, I just want to go to a Quidditch game with my man, is that too much to ask ?”

Harry smiled a little, looking up at him.

“What ?”

“ _My man_ ,” Harry repeated. “That's the first time I hear you say that.”

“So what ?” Draco asked defensively. “You don't like it ?”

“I do,” Harry said, stepping closer. “Actually, I think it turns me on a little,” he added, grabbing his hips before he started nibbling on his lower lip.

“Not here,” Draco uttered, trying not to let the dizziness taking over his mind get the best of him. “Please.”

“Why ?” Harry frowned.

“We're at my aunt's, and Teddy's sleeping next door...”

“Okay,” the DADA professor said, laughing, “so you can have sex all over a _school_ , but a single child in a house makes you shy ?”

“ _All over_ , don't exaggerate...”

“Our bedrooms, my classroom, your office, most of the secret passages, the professor's lounge...”

“... The prefects' bathroom,” Draco completed knowingly.

“Merlin, the prefects' bathroom... Never again !”

“It wasn't that bad...”

“Not that bad ?!” Harry jumped. “Moaning Myrtle slipped _between us_ ! It was the worst !”

“Meh. At least it gave her a thrill.”

“Whatever, you'd have to drag me by force if you want me back there,” Harry concluded, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.

He kept his eyes on Draco as they were undressing :

“Keep your underwear,” he advised.

“Why ?” Draco asked suspiciously as he stopped moving.

“Because it's the first time you spend the night here, and there's nine chances out of ten that Teddy tries to get us out of bed tomorrow morning,” Harry explained, smiling. “And while I happen to enjoy the view very much, I'd rather preserve his innocence a little longer...”

“Isn't he a bit old for that kind of stuff ?” Draco growled, getting in bed next to him in his briefs.

“Put yourself in his shoes, apart from me no one ever stays for the night. It's fun, for him.”

Draco wanted to complain some more, but he found himself facing the myriad of freckles he'd missed so much ; he smiled and started kissing them softly. Harry wiggled against him so that every inch of his back was touching his pale scarred chest. Happiness. They spooned like that for a long while before Harry broke the silence :

“I'm proud of you.”

Draco was about to ask him what he was talking about, but he realised that the former Gryffindor was caressing the mark on his left arm : he didn't cut himself, lately. As lonely had this week been, it wasn't that kind of depressing : the blockheads usually harassing him with howlers seemed to be taking vacations, too. He didn't mindfully avoid hurting himself, he hadn't even thought about it until now, but he was quite happy that his boyfriend saw that as a show of good will. Harry put his lips on the healed cuts that still crossed the tattoo, and the former Death-Eater shuddered :

“Don't do that,” he asked.

“Why ? Harry answered calmly.

“Don't play dumb, you know what the mark stands for...”

“It stands for the horrors you went through. And the strength you showed to get out of it. And I love you for that.”

Draco let the words infuse his mind before he answered mockingly :

“Always so dramatic, Potter...”

“You're one to talk,” Harry scoffed, “you're the biggest Drama Queen I ever met...”

“Git,” the Charms professor commented before he bit his shoulder as a payback.

After they'd messed around like kids for five minutes they ended up falling asleep cuddled up together, and Draco dreaded the time he'd have to go back to the Manor. He'd felt happier here in one day than he'd ever been back there.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Time was a traitor : it was already past nine a.m. when he opened his eyes, and then three shy knocks on the door interrupted the cuddles he needed to get off to a good start. To his greatest despair, Harry invited – with a hoarse voice that put butterflies in his lower belly – the intruders to come in. Teddy laid an enormous breakfast platter on their knees while Andromeda apologised, explaining to them that he'd been waiting to be allowed to wake them up for an hour. The quality of the breakfast compensated a bit for the intrusion, but the child's high-pitched voice was a tad aggressive to sleepy ears – Draco promised himself to never have kids, and even the encouraging smiles his boyfriend was flashing him wouldn't change his mind.

The day went by as fast as the night did and, when it was time to go home, the two professors were able to isolate themselves in a corner of the garden for the first time that day. Draco's stomach was getting heavier with each passing minute bringing him closer to departure, and he didn't know how to tell Harry without sounding too sappy. In doubt, he just remained gloomy in order to ruin their last moments together at perfection. _Well done, Draco_.

“I suppose we'll see each other at the game next Saturday,” Harry tried, letting his head rest on his lover's shoulder.

“Will you really get tickets, or are you just trying to put me in a good mood ?” Draco doubted.

“I received tickets two weeks ago,” Harry confessed. “But after the Hogsmeade attack I didn't want to put you at risk...”

“What ?” Draco took back his shoulder, outraged. “Are you fucking kidding me ?!”

“Don't play this game, I know you lied to me too and you didn't buy a ticket.”

“How would you know that ?” Draco bluffed.

Harry didn't answer, but he gave him a knowing look that suggested he should _really_ stop playing.

“Yeah, well, all right. And why did you change your mind, then ?”

“I can see it's hard on you not being able to go out. And at least I'll be there if anything goes wrong. And this time I'll be ready.”

“White knight Potter...” Draco mocked him.

“Whether you like it or not, it's in my nature. I'll always want to protect you. And it pisses me off not being able to do more.”

Draco looked him in the eye and decided to be honest too :

“If you at least came to see me, reclusion would be easier to bear...”

“I know,” Harry said, lowering his gaze. “I'm sorry.”

“I just want a place where we could be both safe _and_ alone,” Draco explained. “And I know the Manor is not ideal, but it's the closest thing we've got...”

“Maybe it's not !” Harry exclaimed, raising his head abruptly. “I think I know where we might go. Do you have time to go somewhere with me ?”

Draco was ready to follow him anywhere as long as it kept him from going back to the Manor's loneliness but he just nodded, looking as wary as he could. He followed Harry to the fireplace, but he only went there to say goodbye to Andromeda and Teddy before he stepped towards the front door :

“We can't go by Floo. Here,” he added, handing the invisibility cloak to him.

“Again ?” Draco complained, picking up his bag in front of the hearth. “Brilliant, it looks like _another_ completely safe plan...”

“Trust me,” Harry asked.

Draco grudgingly grabbed the cloak before he followed his partner in front of the small house and let him disapparate both of them into the unknown.

 

They landed on the porch of an old house, across from a small shabby square that looked vaguely familiar to Draco. Harry unlocked the door and they walked in a gloomy hallway complete with cobwebs and peeled off wallpaper. A cloud of dust rose in the air when they stepped foot on the worn out carpet, and Draco didn't even try suppressing a loud cough. Harry shushed him, but it was too late : on their left side, too big curtains opened suddenly, revealing the life-size portrait of an old cantankerous witch who started shouting at them :

“Intruders ! Traitors ! Mudbloods !”

“Oh no you don't !” Draco exclaimed, casting her the most powerful muting charm he knew. “Old hag,” he added when the portrait was reduced to twisting its face with rage without producing any sound.

“Wow,” Harry whistled in awe. “Nobody ever managed to shut her up !”

“What did you think, I didn't sleep my way to my teaching position ! Now, why did you bring me here ?” Draco asked. “I recognise little miss sunshine over there : my mother used to drag me here when I was very little. She terrified me.”

“Understandable,” Harry said with a sympathetic wince. “I inherited the house when Sirius died. It's hidden from most people and there're still some protective spells set by the Order of the Phoenix. And most of all, I didn't step foot in here in years : no one remembers this place.”

“Wait... You want us to come _here_ to...” Draco didn't even finish his sentence : the mere thought of getting naked in this place disgusted him.

“To have some alone time,” Harry completed in a more prudish way. “Sure, it will take work : we have to clean everything, to check that there are no dangerous objects or bugs left in the closets, to set up more protections... But I think it would be worth it.”

Draco lit the large chandelier and the gas lamps lining the walls with a wave of his wand. He took a few steps forward, took a peek at the large dining room, and turned back to the DADA professor :

“Once cleaned up and refurbished, it can be all right. But do you feel like doing that much work ?”

Harry was looking at him like a drowning man :

“I miss you. A lot.”

Draco smirked : he'd never have thought he'd have that effect on The-Boy-Who-Lived some day. He came closer to give him a long kiss, relishing in feeling him relax completely in his arms. Quickly, thought, the kiss had another effect on the other man :

“Is it your wand in your pocket, or did you miss me so much that you're able to get hard even in the mouth of hell ?” Draco asked proudly.

“It doesn't really matter, because that catch-phrase was so terrible that I'll go limp pretty soon anyway...” Harry joked against his mouth.

“Wanna bet ?” Draco retorted, nibbling at his earlobe – which got him an immediate reaction against his thigh.

“Don't play around, you're driving me crazy...”

But the Charms professor had no intention of stopping after such a good start. He moved a hand down on his lover's ass and gripped it firmly as he let his lips roam his neck.

“We may be in the mouth of hell, but you're the devil,” Harry stated breathlessly.

Draco shoved him against the wall, in front of old Walburga Black's silent portrait.

“Right there ?” Harry simply asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I'm afraid you can't wait any longer,” the blond man taunted him as he undid the buttons on his jeans.

He turned back to the painting ; his great-aunt seemed ready to explode with fury.

“You were big on blood purity, huh ? Take a good look at a Pure-blood getting on his knees for the biggest blood-traitor of his generation,” he said, doing so.

“You're so messed up,” Harry growled as he took his erection out.

“And you love it,” Draco answered before he licked the whole length of his cock, staring him in the eye.

Harry closed his eyes and let out a few unintelligible swearwords. One hand under his shirt, the other holding down his briefs, Draco was only using his mouth to please the former Gryffindor. Judging by the way the latter moaned whenever Draco gulped down his cock, the painting and the surrounding filth were quickly forgotten. The blond man came and went, letting the tip of his tongue slide on the already wet head, playing with Harry's eagerness to lead him on the verge of ecstasy before calming things down in order to start the whole process again.

It'd only been a few months, and yet Draco felt like he knew his partner's body by heart. He knew the scents, the textures, the tastes. He knew every erogenous zone, every sensitive part, and composed a symphony of groans and cries every time he brushed his skin. He knew everything, and yet it was still the same excitement ; every time he rediscovered him. Every time was a first time and every time was the sum of a whole life spent learning each other. It was like their relationship began the day before, but the day before had lasted an eternity. He was made to love that man.

Harry was grabbing his hair now, begging him to both free him from the wait and never stop ; Draco couldn't stand not hearing his lover's voice break down mid-orgasm anymore : he sucked in his cheeks as much as he could and increased the pace, and three seconds later Harry was finally coming, giving him the hoarse and beastly scream he'd craved so much. His fingers tensed up in the blond hair, and his legs were shaking so much that Draco feared he'd collapse. In doubt, he hugged his hips and laid his head against his stomach, where he could hear the echoes of his frenetic heartbeats. They remained several minutes that way, Harry slowly stroking his head as he came back to his senses, until Draco realised his knees were aching pretty bad and stood up with difficulty.

“I love you,” Harry breathed, still emotional.

Draco answered with a kiss ; he was _not_ going to say it back every time. Harry didn't take offence and pointed to the – now empty – painting in front of them with his chin :

“If I knew it would only take a blowjob to scare her off, I would have dealt with it a long time ago...”

 

 


	7. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /!\ CW : homophobic slurs /!\

 

Harry had insisted on picking him up in front of the Manor to go to the game – of course.

But he'd refused to go in – of course.

Draco had decided to make him wait a little while as a payback, just to remind him which one of them was the biggest diva. Therefore, when he reached the gates walking as slowly as he could, the other man was already pacing outside. He was wearing a muggle outfit, which Draco was supposed to hate, but seeing him in his tight jeans and white T-shirt that, as large as it was, showed his silhouette against the sunlight lifted Draco's spirits some more.

“You told me to meet you half an hour ago !” Harry accused when he saw him.

“And good afternoon to you too,” Draco answered lazily, walking past the gates.

“I was worried sick !”

“You could have just walked in...”

“Yeah, right,” Harry growled.

“And you could also kiss me before we leave... But if you'd rather complain that's your problem.”

“You're a git,” the former Gryffindor answered, standing on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the lips.

“Better than that,” Draco demanded, putting an arm around his hips to draw him closer.

He kissed him in turn, and took advantage of the embrace that made his lover's defences go down to make them both apparate next to the stadium.

“Next time, give me a heads up,” Harry grumbled, grabbing the front of his robes to keep his dizziness from making him trip.

“That's much funnier that way,” Draco defended himself, smiling as charmingly as possible.

That seemed to do the trick, for the “ _arsehole_ ” that followed came along with the hint of a smile and a kiss on the cheek ; however, it didn't last long before Harry turned to check the surroundings, wand at the ready.

Groups of people passed them by to head to the massive structure that stood in the middle of the field, but there was nothing to be worried about ; in fact, they were unnoticed in the crowd, which was unusual enough to be appreciated. The break didn't last long, though : they'd barely started walking with the crowd when a swarm of journalists seemed to materialise a few feet from them, elbowing their way to the professors ; weirdly, Draco didn't recognise any sports reporter amongst them. Harry appeared to be annoyed by the spotlight, but the former Slytherin considered it to be a good thing : Aguamenti would never dare attack them in this context. They ignored the questions – most of them were way too personal anyway – and stepped towards the stands in silence. Once at the foot of the Honour Box, they were finally able to breathe for a bit : the zone's entrance was guarded and highly secured. Harry brandished the precious tickets to go through and they stopped at the bottom of the steps to enjoy a brief moment of solitude.

“It's tough, living the life of a hero,” Draco commented ironically.

“Talk about a hero,” Harry retorted, “I spent the whole week doing housework... Even with Molly's advice and Kreacher's help that house's a pain in the arse, I'm not seeing the end of it...”

“Too bad I couldn't help you,” Draco lied.

Truth be told, he was glad that his partner didn't want to put him at risk by making him go to Grimmauld Place : as enthusiastic as he was at the thought of having a little privacy with Harry, he really didn't want to put up with the cleaning.

“The Floo connection with the Manor will be up on Monday,” Harry announced, smiling. “No more hiding out, you're going to pull your own weight too !”

“Seriously ?” Draco whined.

“I knew you'd be delighted,” Harry said with a grin. “You'll see,” he added, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, “we'll find ways to make it interesting.”

They kissed before they went up the steps that lead to the Box : Draco was not particularly at ease with this first official appearance as a couple, but saving face was one of the things he was best at. Harry in the lead, they slipped in the private compartment reserved for VIPs. Whispers raised around them, but the DADA professor ignored them and went straight towards the highest seats, where the Minister for Magic and professor McGonagall were sitting, deep in conversation.

“Kingsley,” he said, shaking the minister's hand. “It's good to see you out of work ! Minerva too,” he added, greeting the headmistress.

Draco presented them a stiff hand, not even daring to speak to the minister.

“Prof... Minerva,” he corrected himself at his superior's severe look.

“Good afternoon, Draco,” she answered, smiling.

“Wait,” Harry interrupted them, seemingly very comfortable with the situation, “you call him _Draco_ but you still call me _Potter_?!”

“What can I say, Potter, it suits you,” the headmistress retorted.

Draco let out a genuine laugh, until Shacklebolt started speaking :

“Weasley didn't tell me he was covering your outing today.”

“Erm,” Harry babbled, running a hand through his already messy hair, “he doesn't know we're here. No one knew.”

The minister stared at them for a while before he answered :

“That's your decision. But keep in mind that the protection offered by the Auror Department is not a luxury. There's a reason Weasley decided to assign you a close surveillance.”

“I know, Kingsley, but we needed to forget about all of that for a day,” Harry apologised. “It's time for us to find our seats, I think we're a bit late,” he concluded. “Have a nice day !”

He took Draco's arm to pull him a few steps lower, where two seats were waiting for them in the front row.

“A bit rude, ending the conversation like that,” Draco noted in a hushed voice. “Do you realise you just cut short to a discussion with the _minister_?”

If there was one thing Draco had always learned to respect, it was power. That lack of manners outraged him as much as it subjugated him.

“I know,” Harry answered. “I didn't want it to become a debate about Aguamenti, we already spend too much time thinking about those dickheads... And today, it's a day off,” he reminded him.

Draco didn't insist : the terrorist organisation had made another victim earlier this week, and everyone was on edge.

The opening singer entered the stadium, pulling him out of his own head and allowing him to fully appreciate the quality of the seats they'd been reserved. Being the Chosen One had its perks. Sleeping with him too. Harry put two sets of omnioculars out of his satchel bag and handed one to him, just in time to see the teams entering the pitch. Harry sang the Welsh anthem with the crowd, which considerably annoyed Draco who'd hoped he'd be wise enough to completely deny his exes and the nation they represented. Well, he'd just have to sing twice as loud for England – war was declared.

Unfortunately for Draco, the English victory was far from being assured : the Welsh deployed tactic after tactic, synchronised to perfection. The leading qualities of their manager, Gwenog Jones, was well known, but the players seemed to go the extra mile for this final. Weaslette scored two goals under Harry's enthusiastic cheers, and Draco made a big deal of England's equalisation an hour later. From this moment on, his team pulled itself together ; England was leading the score by a hundred and twenty points two hours after the game started, and the blond man was gleefully rubbing it in his boyfriend's face. It was a brilliant day.

Suddenly, a golden spark a few feet from the Box caught Draco's eye : the golden snitch was fluttering right in front of them. He wasn't the only one to notice it : both seekers were speeding up in their direction, elbowing each other violently. The former Slytherin quickly let go of his omnioculars, forcing himself to remain seated as the decisive action was happening just before their eyes. The English seeker stretched out her hand, but the snitch's irregular moves allowed it to escape her last second. At the cost of an impressive stunt, Cadwallader, the Welsh seeker, flew up almost vertically to stop the ball's progression, and eventually succeeded in catching it by practically letting himself fall on its trajectory. The stadium roared with both fury and euphoria and Harry stood up, howling in joy.

“Traitor,” Draco growled when he sat back.

“You'll be fine,” Harry said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry,” he said, suddenly stepping back. “I shouldn't have...”

“I don't mind,” Draco reassured him. “I need comfort, right now...”

Harry ran a compassionate hand on his back, but he was unable to strip the victorious smile off his face.

“However,” the Charms professor asked, “would you mind if we left now ? I don't really want to come face to face with Darren Floyd... My Ego wouldn't stand the comparison.”

Harry stared at him silently before he answered :

“As you wish. But, FYI, your Ego has nothing to be worried about.”

He stood up, not waiting for an answer, and Draco put an arm around his shoulders as they walked back to the stairs. That kind of affectionate gestures didn't come naturally to him, but he was upset by the remorse he'd read in Harry's eyes after he kissed him in the stands : Harry Potter, _Saint Potter_ , was afraid of embarrassing _him_ , the former Death-Eater, in public... It wasn't right, and it was time for Draco to pull it together and show him that he wasn't ashamed to be seen with a man, and even less so with him.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry put an arm around his waist and smiled shyly. He looked like a teenager going out with his boyfriend for the first time : it was way too adorable. Draco kept from telling him that and just held him closer before he checked his wand was within reach and it was safe to get out of the secured zone.

A lot of spectators were leaving the stadium already, and they mingled in the crowd that was moving away. It was nice to feel like two ants among so many others : no one to call on them or even pay attention to them, it was all they ever asked for.

“Hey, faggots...”

Draco's blood froze in his veins and he turned back nervously to look for the source of the slur. A middle-aged man was staring at him viciously :

“Yeah, I'm talking to you, sissy...”

Draco stopped abruptly and caught his wand with a brisk gesture, but Harry stopped him :

“No. Let it go, he's not worth your trouble,” he muttered.

The blond man lowered his arm, struggling to do as his partner asked.

“Yeah, that's it, listen to your girlfriend. Bunch of pussies...”

It was more than Draco could take : he turned around in a hurry and aimed his wand at the man. Before the latter even understood what was happening, a flock of bats had covered his face, making him thrash around violently, pushing away all of the surrounding bystanders. Harry turned around, sighing, and made the bats disappear with a flick of his wrist – his name was muttered all around as onlookers started recognising him.

“You see,” the man bellowed – he seemed to be the only one that still hadn't noticed who was facing him. “Those people are dangerous ! The bloody perverts have no boundaries...”

Once more, Harry kept Draco from reacting by putting a bossy hand on his arm before he stepped forward to face the man :

“ _Those people_ , as you say, didn't survive Voldemort to have any big-mouthed blockhead insult them at the first occasion. Your homophobia is _your_ problem, not ours. So get professional help – or don't, for that matter, I don't give a shite – and leave us the fuck alone.”

The whispers got louder in the assembly, and approving shouts could be heard as well. The man seemed to finally realise that he wouldn't have the upper hand and didn't dare respond. Harry turned back to Draco with so much wrath in his eyes that the blond man considered apologising for his reaction. And yet, he didn't regret anything : the few times he had to deal with homophobia it was in muggle settings, and he was never able to properly defend himself. This time, he knew he could prevail and he didn't want to stand idly by. So no, he wouldn't apologise, and even Harry couldn't...

“Are you okay ?” Harry asked softly, coming back near him.

Well. Maybe he wouldn't need to apologise. Great. Because he wouldn't have. Probably not.

“Better,” he answered carefully. “But I think we attracted the vultures...”

He pointed at Harry's back : several paparazzis just arrived, trying to figure out what just happened.

“Mister Potter,” one of them tried, “a word about what just happened ?”

Draco feared that Harry was going to hex him too, but his voice was weirdly calm, albeit cold, when he answered :

“I said everything I had to say. Now, if you'll excuse me, it was a nice day up to this point and I'd like it to stay that way...”

He took Draco's arm and pulled him out of the turmoil. The blond man got free to put his arm back around Harry's waist and kissed the brush that was his hair.

“You're doing this to piss off that jerk, huh ?” Harry asked, smile returning to his face.

“Nonsense,” Draco lied. “How can you accuse me of such pettiness ?” He faked, letting his hand slide on Harry's butt.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

The post-game incident had been around the newspapers, and Harry had been brooding for days – either at the man that'd insulted them or at the few journalists that made Draco's Bat-Bogey Hex sound like an attack worthy of the darkest of mages. The former Slytherin, however, liked that kind of disinformation better than the soppy papers that talked about their relationship like it was some modern version of Romeo & Juliet.

Like he'd guessed, there were more celebrity magazines' journalists than sports reporters in the crowd that day, and some magazines even devoted more pages to the love-story between the two professors than they did to the game itself. Draco came to wonder how he would save face in front of his students in September – he wasn't even sure his _colleagues_ were mature enough to resist the urge to taunt him , so what was he to expect from a bunch of teenagers ?

 

On the other hand, Draco considered that his theory about the Aurors was confirmed : there had been no sign of Aguamenti at the stadium despite the numerous letters in which he mentioned the final with Harry – the leak didn't come from their mail being watched.

Maybe it made Harry angry too, but Draco didn't give it up : one way or another, journalists had been warned that they'd be there, but the terrorist organisation had no clue. And the Aurors didn't either. It was now obvious that Aguamenti held its information from the very agency that was in charge of protecting them. Harry had refused to talk to the weasel about that theory : the redhead resented him already for making a public appearance without warning him, and Harry wasn't comfortable with the idea of antagonising his friends. And since his relationship with Draco was probably far from getting unanimous support, the blond man regularly wondered what kind of future it held for them. How long did they have before Harry eventually chose his family and friends over their relationship ?

 

Draco spent his time trying to push that question to the back of his mind to try and enjoy the present day. Ever since the Floo Network connected the Manor and Grimmauld Place, he'd come to the Black house every day. The fact that Harry already did most of the cleaning with Kreacher helped convince him : Draco was in charge of undoing charms on family objects and adding protections around the house.

The place was not clean yet, but they took care of thoroughly scrubbing some rooms – including a small bedroom on the first floor they could use to reward each other for their efforts regularly. Truth be told, not seeing each other for some time had made them quite unreasonable, and the breaks were more frequent when they were working in the same room : seeing Harry in action excited all of Draco's senses, and he never lasted long before he jumped on him. As a result, the renovation was progressing extremely slowly – but, after all, the whole point was to have some private time : on that note, it was a success.

 

Some days, they ended up realising they didn't do much more than chatting around a cup of tea and having sex ; those were Draco's favourite days. As someone who'd always got bored extremely rapidly, he was astounded to find that the more he got from Harry the more he wanted : he wanted to know everything, to own everything from that man. It scared him, sometimes. Because he didn't like feeling addicted. Because all of his barriers came down around him. Because he was vulnerable. It was the reason he didn't tell him he'd almost always bottomed in his previous relationships : he felt like it was the last bit of intimacy he'd kept for himself, the last stronghold keeping him from completely committing. But he trusted Harry, and maybe it was his greatest tragedy. He ended up giving everything to him, because he didn't want to keep any part of himself hidden from him anymore. And surrendering was difficult, and terrifying, and wonderful.

 

 

Draco had just finished emptying the dining room's furniture to check the charms on every suspicious object hidden there. The house-elf came in the room to get most of the knick-knacks back and hide them once they were defused ; he was having a hard time seeing his former mistress's house turned upside down. He'd almost fainted when he saw that the old hag's portrait was not in its frame anymore : she didn't reappeared after the blowjob episode, and they didn't find her in any other painting in the house. Draco wasn't mad about it : it spared him the trouble of spending hours looking for a way to unglue the painting from the wall. He had to take care of the living room's tapestry already : he had but a limited interest in the Black family tree. Plus, he thought that his own portrait was completely failed – might as well get rid of it.

 

Anyway, he'd been here for a week and the ground floor was finally secured and ready to be redesigned, same as the kitchen in the basement. He told himself that this small victory was worth celebrating, and went up the stairs to join Harry in the living room. He called him from the landing to take him to the bedroom, but he didn't get any answer. A Malfoy would never be known for letting someone ignore them without retaliating : he walked into the room furtively to take the former Gryffindor by surprise :

“I thought you'd learnt not to spite me, by now,” he whispered, pushing the tip of his wand between Harry's shoulder blades.

The latter didn't react. Draco grabbed him by the shoulders :

“Harry ? You know I'm joking, right ?”

Still nothing. The former Slytherin took a few steps to go face his partner. His head was down, looking at a metallic box engraved with ancient runes, and his whole body was perfectly still except from one hand that was opening the six locks on the cover one by one. His gaze was set on his task, and he didn't even seem to have noticed that Draco was standing in front of him.

When the last lock was undone and he was about to open the cover, the blond man quickly put a hand on it to stop his gesture : he was not fluent in ancient runes, but he knew when an object had been touched by dark magic. Whatever the box contained, it wasn't good. Harry suddenly looked up at him : his pupils were completely dilated, and foam was coming out of his mouth ; Draco took a step back but didn't lose his hold on the box. He could feel the metal heating under his palm, like something was trying to spread under his skin.

His first reflex was to cast a stunning spell at Harry to set him free from the object's influence ; he put his right hand under the box to rapidly take it back as the DADA professor was falling heavily on the old living room carpet. Draco immediately put the box on the desk next to him before he sealed it again with a powerful spell – no one alive could successfully open this thing.

 

Once the emotion had subsided, he kneeled next to Harry to wake him up. The other man rubbed the back of his head ; he looked like he was waking from a ten-years long coma.

“What... What am I doing here ?” He asked.

Draco frowned : memory loss was never a good sign.

“You found a cursed box,” he explained. “You were about to open it, I had to _stupefy_ you so that you let go of it.”

Harry looked towards the bookcase on his left, where the box must have come from.

“I think I remember. I was trying to empty the shelves to check that there were no bugs around... After that, everything's blank.”

“I sealed the box, but we'll have to find a way to get rid of it.”

“Okay. Thank you. But next time try to make me fall on a mattress or a couch, please,” Harry asked, still massaging the back of his head.

“Next time, don't touch a suspicious object covered in runes, you dummy,” he retorted while helping him to stand up.

“I'll try to remember that. Is everything okay with the dining room ?”

“I'm done,” Draco announced, smiling. “And it's not even noon ! I came to collect my reward,” he murmured, snuggling against him.

Harry kissed him tenderly, and Draco felt that he was gripping his neck more and more as minutes went by.

“Hey there, what's the rush ?” He asked, moving back a little.

Harry staggered, and Draco narrowly caught him to help him sit on the couch.

“Are you all right ?” He worried.

“I... I almost fainted, I think,” Harry explained.

Draco asked him a few simple questions about the date and his recent memories to make sure there was nothing serious. As far as he could tell, the box only stole Harry's energy. He had Kreacher bringing them lunch in the living room, and after he saw Harry fall asleep on his sandwich he ordered him to go home and rest.

“No,” Harry said.

“You're being ridiculous, look at the state you're in !” Draco got angry. “You won't get anything done today, you need to sleep.”

“I can sleep here,” Harry retorted. “We have a clean bedroom... Take a nap with me.”

“That's not how the renovation gets done,” Draco said sarcastically.

Harry didn't answer, but his eyes were both determined and begging.

“All right... We sleep here, okay. Come on,” the Charms professor yielded.

Draco didn't fall asleep, but having the former Gryffindor cuddling against him was relaxing, even in a makeshift bedroom with peeled off wallpapers. He missed sleeping with Harry, having someone to hug at night and wake up next to. So, even just for a nap, he was happy to get that feeling back.

Harry woke up two hours later, seemingly surprised to be there.

“Feeling better ?” Draco asked, running a hand through his hair.

“What ? Oh. Yeah. The box,” Harry grunted. “I'm okay. What time is it ?”

“No idea. But we still have time.”

“Great,” Harry sighed, cuddling back against him.

 

To celebrate the living room being finally clean and safe, they took the tea in there for the first time that day.

“So,” Harry asked, how do we decorate ? Not that I don't appreciate the gloomy vibe, but I think we can do better.”

Draco considered the question :

“First, you have to burn down that wallpaper. That pattern is hideous. Then, lighten the furniture a bit to modernise it. And change the curtains and carpets.”

“All right, you want to ruin me, then,” Harry summed up, laughing. “What about the colours ?”

“I can picture it off-white and midnight blue. If you're not afraid you can also go for an anthracite grey with small touches of yellow.”

“Wow. Okay, you know your stuff,” Harry noted. “And I thought you'd just put green everywhere...”

“Why does everyone think I like green ?” Draco took offence. “Is it because I was in Slytherin ? For the record, I hate green.”

“Okay... Me and my eyes are not hurt at all,” Harry answered ironically.

“No, but I like your eyes,” Draco sighed. “But otherwise green is...” He hesitated. “It's the colour of Death.”

Harry stared at him solemnly, but he didn't make any comment. Draco knew he understood : his own nightmares were probably tinged with green since he was merely a toddler.

They finished their cups of tea discussing decoration only, and Draco felt lucky to have found someone who was able to understand him with just a few words. He was surprised to picture a future where they'd take every meal in that room they'd have decorated together, day after day ; it was the first time he allowed himself to imagine a joined future for them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hey ! If you're reading this update from Europe, please drink some water =) It's like a thousand degrees outside, you need it. Take care !]


	8. Don't ask

 

Harry was in the 12, Grimmauld Place's living room, ready to leave for the Leaky Cauldron, but he had to try convincing Draco to go with him one last time :

“You know that Neville invited both of us, he's gonna be disappointed...”

“You wish him a Happy Birthday for me, it'll be enough. I barely have the right to leave the Manor already, Weasley's bound to freak out if I show up at the pub.”

“Stop messing with me, I know that's not the reason why you don't want to come.”

“You're right,” the blond man confessed bitterly, adjusting Harry's cloak on his shoulders. “And it's for the same reason that you don't want to celebrate your birthday : I'd clash with the decor.”

“Don't say that,” Harry scolded him.

Draco was not completely wrong, though : Harry couldn't possibly invite him at Ron and Hermione's, but he didn't want to have a party without him. He'd taken good care not to tell him that bluntly, but the former Slytherin was perceptive. However, tonight, Harry would've liked to try introducing him properly to his friends ; the conditions were perfect : Neville'd invited both of them on neutral grounds – the Leaky Cauldron, that was privatised for the occasion – and there would be several of their Hogwarts colleagues for support.

“See, you can't even deny,” Draco insisted after a long pause. “Plus, with the articles published last week we would have been the attraction of the night. The token gay couple, no thanks...”

“That's bullshit,” Harry disagreed. “First, they're not the type, plus Dean and Seamus will be there too.”

“Who's that ?” Draco asked.

Harry sighed :

“They were in my dorm at Hogwarts with Neville and Ron... They started dating just after the war. I'm pretty sure I talked about them before...”

“Wait,” Draco exulted, “you mean that out of six blokes in your dorm three were gay ? Fuck, I may have missed something at Sorting...”

“First of all,” Harry lost patience, “I'm not gay, I'm bi... And so is Dean. It's nice to know that my significant other cares so much...”

“Oh, I care,” Draco said. “I get jealous of twice the amount of people whenever you go out, that's _so_ great.”

“That's stupid,” Harry answered coldly – he wanted to lecture him about biphobia, but it wouldn't help him achieve what he was currently trying. “Man or woman, no one can compete with you,” he added, kissing his neck.

“Nice try, but I won't go,” Draco stopped him. “Plus, you're going to be late if you don't hurry.”

“Is that your last word ?” Harry deplored.

“Yes,” Draco said, grabbing a handful of Floo powder to flee.

“You come back tomorrow ?” Harry verified.

“Of course,” Draco confirmed, throwing the powder into the flames.

Harry snatched a kiss from him before he disappeared and grabbed Neville's present on the coffee table. He was not so enthusiastic about going out anymore, but he still went down the stairs to disapparate from the house's porch.

 

The pub was already buzzing when he got in. He didn't know if he was the last one to arrive, but it sure looked like it.

“Hey, Harry !” Neville welcomed him, seemingly overwhelmed. “You're on your own ?”

“Happy birthday, Neville !” He said as a greeting. “Draco preferred not to go out, but he sends his best wishes too. He's the one who chose your gift, by the way,” he said, handing him the package.

“Thanks,” Neville said, drawing him in a slightly rough hug. “I'll open it later. I'm glad you came.”

Harry headed to the bar to say hi to Hermione – she was deep in conversation with Dean and Hannah – but Ron hailed him from across the counter :

“Oi, Harry !”

“Hi,” Harry said, smiling. “Child-free night, huh ? Is Molly babysitting Rose ?”

“Mate,” Ron answered, dead serious, “Hermione's parents have been at our place for two days... You'd know if you came home before everyone's in bed, from time to time. You've been like the bloody wind for two weeks.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologised, grimacing. “Between the renovation and Teddy I'm all over the place lately.”

“It's all right,” Ron said, grinning. “We always knew the day would come when our big baby would leave the nest !”

“You're a twat,” Harry laughed, grabbing the pint he was handing him.

“So, didn't feel like taking your toff out, tonight ?” Asked a voice on his right side.

“Ginny !” Ron told her off. “Don't mind her,” he added for Harry, “she's been drinking.”

“I have not !” She protested. “So, how are things, Mr Wind ?”

“Don't you start with this too,” Harry begged.

“I'm not gonna lie, I was a tad vexed when you came to see me play the final but didn't stick around to say _hi_...”

“I'm sorry, Gin. It was a brilliant game, by the way, well done. In my defence, you didn't reply to half my letters lately...”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, staring at the bottom of her glass. “The latest news were a bit harsh on me...”

Harry didn't need to ask what she was talking about :

“I know it's hard to understand from the outside,” he admitted. “But everything's fine, I'm old enough to make my own decisions.”

“But fucking hell, Harry, that's Malfoy !” She suddenly got angry. “How can you... Argh, I can't even finish this sentence ! Darren, I understood, eventually. It was tough, but I supported you. He's great, you were good for each other... But _Malfoy_...”

Harry wanted to retort that the real difference was that he'd never loved Darren Floyd more than he'd loved her, and it comforted her to know she was still his one true love. But he knew it wasn't fair : even if she was still one of his best friends, Ginny was long over him and it was true that she always had his back, even after they broke up. Well, up until today...

“You don't know him,” he accused. “Even Ron gets it,” he said to seek support from his best friend – but Ron had long deserted this side of the pub and its drama.

“I, for one, think that it's lovely,” Luna's voice said behind him, startling him.

“What is ?” Ginny asked, frowning.

“The fact that Draco still fancies Harry after all these years !” She went on casually.

“What ?!”

“How do you know he...”

Harry and Ginny exchanged puzzled looks. Only Luna could drop that kind of bombs like it was no big deal.

“Oh,” she kept going, "we all knew in Ravenclaw. Most students had bets going on about whether you'd kiss or kill each other first. But that went south when you fought in the bathroom, they chose to call everything off. If the bets were still valid a lot of people would owe me money today,” she concluded matter-of-factly.

Harry was listening to her, gawking. He couldn't believe it. Ginny let out a roaring laugh, giving him a big smack to the shoulder – which, at least, made him snap out of it and laugh in turn.

The three of them discussed for quite some time after that, carefully avoiding the subject. As a matter of fact, that was the motto Harry followed for the whole evening to keep from having words with half of his friends.

There was an awkward moment when Neville, opening his gifts, told him in front of everybody to thank Draco for the luxurious dragon-hide gloves he'd picked for him, but overall the DADA professor mostly succeeded in crossing the minefield that was this party.

Some people cracked jokes at him, quoting the ridiculously soppy articles that went out recently, and some seemed determined not to speak to him – their loss. Hermione looked annoyed every time Draco's name came up, but Dean came to him to express his support – one-on-one, because Seamus, for his part, didn't understand how he could've gotten close to the Slytherin. But Harry went through the evening without getting angry and, miraculously, without drowning his discomfort in booze.

When he came home to his best friends' house, he thought to himself that it was a good thing he didn't plan a big gathering for his own birthday the following day – well, the same day, really, since it was two a.m. : he couldn't've handled a second night dodging everyone.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Harry's birthday went on roughly like every other day that month : in spite of the lack of sleep, he went to Grimmauld Place in the morning, where he kept cleaning up the second floor for two hours before Draco decided to show up – the blond man was not what you'd call a morning person. In his defence, today he arrived with a massive present in his arms. It was a full-length mirror that could show anything it'd reflected during the past hour – the former Slytherin assured him it was very convenient to compare several outfits or to see yourself from behind, but Harry suspected he had more lewd intentions when he strongly insisted on putting it in the small bedroom on the first floor.

Despite their usual afternoon delight, the housework progressed rapidly that day : Draco was still busy in the living room, where a lot of objects still required his expertise on dark magic, and where he was still trying to figure out a way to get rid of the Black family tapestry. For his part, Harry was cleaning and sanitising the bedrooms on the second floor, and he didn't join Draco downstairs until late afternoon :

“All right, I think that's enough for the day,” he concluded as he walked in the living room.

Draco was busy with the tapestry ; he was wearing a grey T-shirt that Harry lent him after noticing he only had long-sleeved clothes to conceal the mark. The fabric was sticking to his back because of the effort, and the former Gryffindor felt a bit dirty when he realised he found that extremely hot.

“Still no clue how to take it out ?” He asked, stepping closer.

Draco turned to face him, wiping his forehead with the bottom of the shirt :

“Say what you will about the Blacks, but they knew their way around magic... I feel like I've tried everything, it's depressing me.”

“You'll figure something out,” Harry reassured him, pushing away a few strands of hair that'd stuck to his forehead. “In the meantime, I want to get my mind off things...”

He kissed him, and even the salty taste of Draco's lips turned him on.

“I wish we could go dancing,” he whispered, not trying to cover his frustration.

He was never a big fan of nightclubs, but he needed an outlet : being locked up exacerbated his need to live a normal life – and if Draco was already _this_ attractive when he was sweaty in old clothes that were too big for him, Harry couldn't even imagine how he'd look on a dance floor.

“We can,” Draco claimed. “But I'm surprised you'd want to go out two night in a row. You're getting wild, Potter !”

Harry couldn't bring himself to tell him that the previous evening, even if it'd been overall enjoyable, hadn't been the most relaxing.

“That's on you,” he accused, smiling, instead. “But you can't go out anyway. We'll just put a pin on it.”

“Yeah, we're not doing that. As long as I live, no one's gonna keep you from going dancing for your birthday. Besides, now that I have the image of you dancing in my mind, there's no way we're not making it happen.”

Harry was about to argue : he could not possibly risk Draco's life for a stupid urge to go out. Moreover, he might be somewhat disappointed by Harry's non-existent dancing talents. But Draco didn't give him time to answer :

“We can go in a muggle club. I know the Soho streets like the back of my hand, no one will be able to jump us there. And even if they tried, don't underestimate my fighting skills. I'll take them five on one, if I have to !”

“Yeah, that's it,” Harry scoffed, “in the meantime you're getting your arse handed to you by a tapestry...”

“Arsehole,” Draco hissed, pushing him on the couch. “Just for that I'm going to drag you to the Manor to shower before we go out.”

“What ?!” Harry jumped. “No, there's a bathtub here ! Plus, I never said we were going out.”

He felt more and more like that conversation was slipping out of his control. He didn't like it.

“No, but _I_ said so,” Draco confirmed, leaning over him. “And the bathtub here is too small for the two of us, but I want you really, really bad... And we're definitely too disgusting to do anything before we showered. So... You, me, a giant bathtub... Don't tell me you're not even a little bit intrigued...”

Harry felt his heart reverse its pace to make most of his blood run up to his cheeks – well, except from the blood accumulating in his crouch, that was. Draco, all sweaty in one of his shirts, clearly telling him he wanted to fuck him... Hell, he couldn't fight against that. But the Manor... He didn't know if he'd be able to go back there. He stared at the grey eyes for a bit.

“Come on, Harry, I know you want to,” Draco whispered to destabilise him some more.

“Are you sure that's what you want ?” Harry asked anxiously.

“Are you kidding ?” Draco answered, raising an eyebrow. “Shagging with you on the shower before we go dancing : that's like _all_ I want. Ever.”

Harry couldn't help but laugh, which definitely made him lose face in the debate. Draco straightened up, flashing him a victorious smile.

“Just a quick stop at the Manor to shower,” Harry clarified. “And we take the cloak to go out, just in case. I know we can't use it around muggles,” he added under Draco's sceptical stare, “but I'd feel better having a backup plan.”

“If you say so,” the Charms professor agreed with a shrug.

 

 

After he warned Ron and Hermione that he wouldn't be at there place that night, Harry followed Draco by Floo. His guts weighed a few extra pounds when the Malfoys' dining room materialised in front of him, but the blond man took his hand as soon as he was out of the flames to drag him out of the room. They'd barely crossed the threshold into the entry hallway when Narcissa came to meet them, though : Harry's stomach attempted a backflip in spite of the lead weight seemingly sticking it down.

“I thought I heard footsteps,” she said. “Had I known that Mr Potter would grant us with his presence today, I would have slipped into something more decent,” she added, glaring at Draco.

Harry took a good look at her : she was wearing a long black dress adorned with luxurious embroideries, and she'd obviously spent a fair amount of time doing her hair and makeup. The taste for drama was definitely running in that family's blood...

“It wasn't planned, Mother,” Draco defended himself. “Our visit will be short : we will merely bathe and clothe ourselves in order to go out and celebrate Harry's birthday.”

The latter had a strong urge to burst out laughing, hearing his boyfriend speak in such a stuck-up way, but a heavy pressure on his fingers got him to focus. Eventually, Mrs Malfoy's merciless stare set on him, eliminating any hint of good mood in him.

“Don't be ridiculous, Draco. I'll have the kitchens cooking a meal for three. We owe Mr Potter a decent birthday dinner.”

Harry panicked, but he couldn't think of any polite way to refuse the invitation. Draco came to his rescue :

“It's very generous of you, but truth be told we were thinking about having dinner in the city.”

Narcissa jumped, and her mundane mask crackled when she answered :

“In the city ? Draco, do I have to remind you of the current situation ? First you take risks going to a foolish Quidditch game, and now this ? Do you have no regard for the life I gave you ?”

“Mother,” Draco broke down, “It has nothing to do with...”

“We'll stay !” Harry intervened.

The two Malfoys turned to look at him, not sure of what they just heard. Harry would have liked to turn to look at himself, too, not sure of what he just said. He gave Draco a confused look, unable to stop the words panic was saying with his mouth from getting out :

“We can stay for dinner. We'll see about the rest later...”

Draco might as well have shot him on the spot. He answered coldly :

“Fine. But first, let's go take a shower.”

Narcissa twitched her nose as she examined him more closely :

“That seems like a priority indeed. We'll have dinner at eight. Don't be late.”

 

The two professors went on their way, and Harry was still wondering what the fuck went through his own head.

“Bloody hell, Potter, make up your mind !” Draco growled, pulling him towards the stairs on the other side of the hall.

“I know, I panicked,” Harry apologised. “You were both terrifying, back there...”

“Brilliant. Sounds promising for dinner,” Draco said sarcastically.

_Fuck_ ... Harry was slowly realising what he got himself into. If someone offered him to fight a new Dark Lord to get out of that dinner, he would have taken the duel, no hesitation ; the choice was easy to make : he couldn't get rid of Narcissa Malfoy with an  _Expelliarmus_ ... His mouth was dry ; he swallowed heavily.

“Hey,” Draco said, stopping in the middle of the long corridor upstairs. “It wasn't the smartest thing to offer, but it's only dinner.”

Harry nodded rigidly ; he could feel his face turning pale.

“Come on,” the blond man added, dragging him towards the end of the hallway, “I have just what you need to relax.”

After an endless series of stairs and corridors, they arrived in a wing that displayed less portraits and tapestries than the previous ones. Draco pushed open a door on their left and invited him in.

Harry finally snapped out of it to admire the bathroom he just walked in : a room as large as Ron and Hermione's living room, with immaculate white walls and floor, at the centre of which was standing a massive circular pool of which the edges rose about three feet above the ground. The room was heavily clashing with the rest of the manor, where almost everything was decorated with mouldings and draperies – it felt like Draco had had the clear intention to make this room the less  _malfoyesque_ possible. Harry couldn't even gauge the size of the tub with the room's brightness making its outlines barely discernible. He could see a piece of furniture with sinks on the right, too, but something was off : there were no visible taps. He knew it was a bathroom, yet nothing pointed to it. Draco smiled at his baffled look and undressed quickly :

“Hurry up, I can't wait till we're clean to start getting dirty...”

Harry started taking off his own clothes, eyes set on his lover : his skin and hair in the middle of this bright room made him look almost angelic. If he didn't know all the vice hidden behind that, he might have believed he was a fucking divine apparition. Well, not that the vice made Malfoy any less divine... A slight twitch of his cock – now freed from its textile prison – confirmed that the depravity was precisely what he was interested in right now.

“Glad to see you too,” Draco answered to the erect member.

“ _The Knob Whisperer_ ,” Harry laughed.

“Come on,” the blond man ordered, stepping over the edge of the tub.

The former Gryffindor took off his glasses, followed him, and ended up searching for a way to turn the water on – besides, even if he'd found it, he had no idea where it could come from either : every surface was perfectly smooth, wherever he looked.

“Do you want _water_?” Draco asked, putting an emphasis on the last word.

Harry was about to answer that, indeed, it would be easier to take a shower, but a light rain was already falling on the top of his head. Startled, he looked up ; water seemed to materialise just below the ceiling, making a warm drizzle rain all-over the tub. A voice command, then – wizards' home automation, in a way. Draco, still finding his surprise amusing, got closer to softly slick the black hair back and gave him a kiss on the temple before he went down towards his mouth, following the curb of his jaw. Harry could feel the water trickling down his nose, flooding their lips and forcing them to lower their heads to breathe from time to time. Draco took advantage of a pause to whisper :

“It would be better with _soap_ , don't you think ?”

Once again, the question was rhetorical : water stopped falling and his right hand was now full of white foam, that he took great pleasure smearing on Harry's chest. He took this opportunity to rub his hands on his shoulders, his stomach, his waist, obviously appreciating the view. After a few minutes, Harry rebelled :

“I'm not the only one that's filthy ! How do you...”

But Draco didn't let him get his own soap : he pressed his abdomen on Harry's and started rubbing himself on him to get some of the foam back, all the while running his hands on his back to keep washing him. It was definitely not what he was going for, but it was both ridiculous, seeing him wiggling like that, and extremely cute ; Harry smiled, putting both hands on his neck to get him to kiss him.

The moistness of the kiss was way more enjoyable now that the drowning hazard was gone, and Harry let his tongue storm Draco's mouth, and he felt him letting go a little more with every passing second. He moved his hands down on the Charms professor's arse, and the latter didn't wait long before waving his hips against Harry's, drawing both of their cocks into an erotic ballet. Harry felt the heat radiate from his groin to his chest. Their bodies were desperately pressing close together in an attempt to fuse completely ; Harry tightened his grip on the white butt to hoist Draco against him. The former Slytherin wrapped his legs, his arms, and his whole aura around him : thirty minutes earlier, Harry was looking for an escape plan ; now, nothing existed but Draco, and his body, and his taste, and his whole being holding on to him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you,” Harry whispered against his lips.

“Shh,” Draco ordered him. “Stretch me out...”

“Now ? Just like that ?” Harry wondered. “I don't even have lube...”

He'd barely finished his sentence when his right hand slipped from Draco's arse, almost making him fall. Harry stared at his palm, incredulous : it was covered in slimy gel. Did Malfoy really cast a spell on his bathroom to get lube on demand ?!

“Don't ask,” Draco told him with a smirk, seemingly reading his mind as usual.

Harry didn't have any trouble carrying him with one arm : even if he was taller, Draco was light as a feather and hanged to his hips with all his might. On top of that, the bottom of the tub was anything but slippery ; Draco'd really thought everything through.

Harry didn't waste his time before he moved his hand down toward the aristocratic behind to obey its owner. Draco wrapped his arms tighter around his neck, regularly huffing pleased gasps in his ear as Harry 's fingers came and went inside of him. The DADA professor was taking his time : two minutes went by, maybe five, then he lost count when his left arm started to protest the lifting work that was asked of it. Draco must've felt the trembling from the effort :

“Already getting tired ?” He joked, straightening up a little. “Hold me tight.”

Harry barely had the time to put his right hand back on his hip as reinforcements when the former Slytherin let go of his neck and let himself fall back. Harry was about to yell at him when he saw him catch the edge of the tub with both hands.

“Are you nuts ?!” he screamed anyway. “Don't ever do that again !”

He still had to admit that the view was more than enjoyable : Draco, muscles strained, who only held on to him by his thighs' strength...

“Stop complaining and fuck me,” he commanded with a sassy smile.

It turned out to be quite acrobatic, holding Draco with one arm while he directed himself with the other, but Harry's cock ended up finding the now familiar way. As soon as he'd completely slid inside of Draco, the latter sighed with delight and put up one knee after the other on Harry's shoulders, driving him to lean towards him to allow him to cross his ankles behind his head. Harry didn't know where he'd gotten the idea, but the position was perfect : he moved his hands up on the bony hips and waved his pelvis slowly to test Draco's reaction.

“Go harder,” the latter ordered him with a voracious stare.

Harry didn't wait any longer and gave free rein to his desires, thrusting harder and harder, until Draco let his head fall back with a satisfied groan :

“You're so fucking perfect...”

Harry smiled : the feeling was mutual. There was no place in the world where he felt happier than between his ex-nemesis' thighs ; feeling his warmth against him, seeing the quivers run along his stomach whenever he moved deeper, enjoying every twitch of his body around his cock... It was a real trial every time not coming in three seconds.

Harry turned his head to lay a kiss on one of Malfoy's knees, and the latter pulled himself up and extended his neck to get a kiss on the mouth too. He was playing with Harry, caressing him with his tongue between two sighs, moaning against his skin, whispering his name, panting... It was impossible for the former Gryffindor to hold longer : after the third breathless “ _Harry_ _”_ murmured by a soaked Draco with half-closed eyes, his whole body decided to explode. He came with a mix of pleasure and frustration at not being able to make the moment last longer. He instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around his lover's back and kept still until he was able to catch his breath ; he could have fallen asleep that way, because of how good it felt to be pressed against Draco.

The latter, on the other hand, was starting to show signs of muscular weakness, and Harry quickly had to get out of his intimacy to put him back down on the floor. As he was crouching down to let his feet rest on the bottom of the tub, he noticed that Draco's erection was still in fine fettle. He gave a soft kiss on the tip of the sensitive prick, owing him a wide shiver from the blond man, who was now sitting on the edge of the pool.

“You don't have to,” he said, “it's _your_ birthday.”

“Nonsense,” Harry growled, swallowing up the cock in one go, making the blond man entangle his fingers in his wet hair to try and control the burst of pleasure that was taking over him. Harry loved feeling the throbbing member in his mouth : it felt primitive, bestial, like he was part of an ancient ritual. He held his lover between his jaws and he felt privileged, and powerful, and wild. “ _Water ?_ _”_ he tried, emerging after a few back-and-forths.

The light drizzle returned, enveloping them again. Harry lifted his head to fill his mouth with warm water before he went back to his business. Draco cursed in a hoarse voice and gripped the black hair even more tightly, undeniably restraining himself from directing his lover's head. Harry, on his part, had to focus to avoid from choking every time his partner's cock reached the back of his mouth. He called on his hands for backup as soon as he started to feel cramps in his jaw, and Draco let himself slide against him more and more with each motion.

Harry eventually spat the water to be able to lick his partner the way he wanted to, letting his lips linger around the prick to caress it with his tongue. He liked hearing Draco's voice modulate depending on the way he touched him, on the intensity of his wrist's gestures, and on his tongue strokes. When he felt the other man was about to come, he took the whole length of the cock back in his mouth and sucked him like his life depended on it. In a few seconds, he was rewarded with screams muffled by the sound of water.

He did his best to avoid grimacing too much at the bitter taste of sperm and stood up to hug the man he loved.

“Happy birthday,” Draco huffed in his neck.

“I think you're my favourite present,” Harry confessed.

 

Once they'd properly washed, Harry finally discovered Draco's bedroom, across from the hall. Unsurprisingly, it was gigantic and included a four-poster bed, a sitting area where a whole wall was covered with a bookcase, and a dressing that was roughly the same size as Harry's office at Hogwarts. The blond man chose for him a shirt from his own closet, judging the ones he owned to be “of the worst quality”. A house-elf was tasked with adjusting it on him with great deals of magic while Draco was getting ready nearby ; he put on a dark violet shirt and light-coloured trousers that were way too tight to allow Harry to focus on anything else. Himself had been given black jeans and a light grey satin shirt that looked like it costed more than his entire wardrobe.

Harry still dreaded dinner, but the prospect of going out with Draco for the first time after that helped him cheer up a bit. They went down to the dining room where Narcissa was waiting for them in front of the fireplace ; she'd traded her graceful black dress for a golden gown with a long train that Harry would have totally pictured as a wedding dress – he complimented her, aware that the goal was to impress him. Her sole response was to look disdainfully at their muggle clothes.

Next to her, the table was set, decorated with crystal flowers and lights. Harry felt dumb in advance when he noticed the three plates and three sets of cutlery waiting in front of each chair ; even at the Minister's table he'd never felt so much like he was ignorant of the basic etiquette. The hostess invited them to sit down, and Harry almost cursed when he realised he'd be alone on his side of the table, in front of the two Malfoys : the image of an interrogation room came to his anxious mind, amplified by the family portrait behind them that added three sets of smug eyes to his imaginary jury. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, incurring an angry look from Draco, who'd spent ten minutes trying to discipline them – in vain.

“So, Mister Potter,” Narcissa started, interrupting their silent argument, “it is my understanding that you started renovating my ancestors' house...”

“Yes,” Harry answered in a hurry. “It's been abandoned for a long time, but I think we can make something good out of it.”

“I dare to hope that you are aware of the fact that this is our family's patrimony, and that you will know better than altering it.”

The sentence had been pronounced in a calm voice, almost indifferent, but Harry made no mistake : it was a demand, not an advice. Narcissa was staring at him, sipping the sparkling beverage that'd appeared in her glass a minute earlier.

“And I dare to hope that you're aware of the fact that that house belongs to me, and that I will do whatever I want with it,” he retorted, taking a sip in turn.

He didn't recall ever seeing Draco with such big eyes ; for a minute, he wondered if he was still breathing or if he'd broken him for good. The blond man ended up getting over it, though :

“What Harry means, Mother, is that Walburga Black may not have been the best interior decorator there was, and that some redesigns will be necessary in order to make the house liveable according to contemporary standards.”

He'd kept his gaze on Harry the whole time, but the latter had decided not to let himself be pushed around : the Manor raised his anger, and he refused to feel like its prisoner once again.

“No, _my dear_ ,” he said, defying Draco, “what I mean is that it's _my_ house, and I'm dead set on ridding it of everything that's reminiscent of the former owners' nauseating views.”

He thought Draco was about to jump across the table to strangle him, but his mother put a hand on his tense shoulder :

“I admit that everything may not be in the best of taste in there. However, keep in mind that that house, that family, are Draco's roots. You can redesign the house, but you will not be able to do the same with my son. There will be a time where you will have to accept him as a whole or discontinue this pretence of relationship.”

“Mother !” Draco exclaimed, outraged.

His face had turned purple : maybe he was more uncomfortable than Harry, after all.

“I never tried to change Draco,” Harry defended himself. “Maybe it's time that you realised he stopped sharing the Blacks' values a long time ago, otherwise this relationship could actually not have started at all.”

“Enough !” Draco all but screamed. “Can you please stop talking about me like I wasn't here ? Harry, please stop disrespecting my mother's family under her roof. Mother, my love life doesn't concern you in any way. Now, if the elves were as kind as to bring us the first course, so we can be done with this bloody dinner as soon as possible, that would be great.”

Harry and Narcissa stared at him in silence ; the plates filled themselves, and for a few minutes the only noise that could be heard was the sounds of silverware on porcelain.

“So, Mother,” Draco eventually tried, “did you have interesting readings recently ?”

“You would know had you spent if only a day here in the past week,” she blamed him, apparently still vexed of having been berated by her own son.

Harry frowned : they'd only spent four days at Grimmauld Place the previous week, because he had to babysit Teddy and help set up the annual fundraiser for the association he'd created after the war – The Light Switch, which helped finding homes for orphaned witches and wizards. He threw Draco a questioning look.

“I stayed here several days, Mother. We didn't run into each other, that's all.”

“Do not lie to me, Draco. You forgot who you are talking to.”

Harry didn't like to admit it, but he tended to believe Narcissa over Draco :

“My gift. How did you get it ?” He asked.

The question had already crossed his mind, but until now he was sure that the other man had not been stupid enough to get out of the Manor. Draco stared at him unblinkingly :

“I ordered it using a fake name. Andromeda went to collect it for me.”

Harry searched his eyes, but he was too good of an actor to let anything show.

“Draco,” his mother went on, “if I learn that you put yourself in danger for any possible reason, I will lock you up in here without hesitation.”

“Will you stop accusing me of all kinds of ills ? Merlin, I liked it better when you two were fighting for my affection, after all,” he added in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“I am not joking, Draco,” Narcissa insisted. “I know that you are capable of taking risks for the mere sake of opposing your detractors. That foolish decision of yours to go out after dinner is a perfect example.”

Harry lowered his head : he felt guilty for not having resisted more to the blond man's proposition, and he knew that this remark was meant for him, too.

“It's not for the mere sake of opposing anyone,” Draco said angrily. “Every attack took place in wizarding neighbourhoods, at the victim's home or workplace. Muggle streets are way safer for me than the Manor ! Dementors were able to attack you right here barely four months ago : if Aguamenti really wants to, they'll find a way to get in too...”

His voice went hoarse on the end of the sentence : Harry could see that the memory of the attack on his mother still affected him a lot more than he let on. Narcissa must have noticed it too, for she softened a bit after that, not insisting any more.

The rest of the dinner went on more calmly ; despite the fact that he disagreed with his hostess on almost every topic, including the most innocuous ones, they did their best to keep the conversation civil. When, finally, dessert was eaten, Harry was relieved to see Draco take leave of his mother and walk towards the hallway. He stood up hastily to follow him, but Narcissa's cold voice stopped him in his tracks :

“Mister Potter, I would like to have a few words in private before you leave.”

Draco frowned, but under the silent authority of his mother he still leaved the room with an apologetic look at his partner. Harry felt panic take over his thoughts again, and took the initiative without really wanting to :

“Look, Mrs Malfoy, I know what you want. You don't approve of this relationship, I can understand it, but I assure you I want nothing more than Draco's happiness. So, with all due respect, I'll hang on to him until the end, whatever you may think of it.”

His heart was beating frantically in his ears as Narcissa stared at him with her usual stuck-up look.

“You prejudge my opinions a bit quickly, young man,” she answered calmly. “Did you know that my son has had his eyes on you since he was twelve ? I knew. To me, that relationship only goes to prove that my son always gets what he wants – and that he has good taste. After all, you're the hero of the wizarding community, descended from a great lineage, I might add. It is true that we share very few views, but as long as you do not hurt Draco I will not hinder you. That is precisely why I wanted to talk to you.”

Harry blushed : he felt like a complete moron, getting carried away this easily. This time, he let her go on :

“Draco has always been stubborn, but it is highly unusual for him to get this imprudent. I fear that Lucius's passing affected him beyond what he is letting on, and that this ridiculous risk-taking is but a consequence of his grief. He is a discreet young man, and I doubt that he would share his feelings with anyone, but I will ask you to remain attentive to his behaviour. And to protect him from himself as much as from anything else.”

“It's not the first time we've had this conversation,” Harry noted. “It's the first thing you asked of me after you learned... Well... After his abduction.”

He lowered his gaze at the mention of her husband's death.

“That is somehow correct. But it appears that you underestimated the risk he poses for himself. And that risk is significant.”

Harry knew very well that Draco was his own worst enemy : it was when he realised that that he started feeling empathy for him, and it was when he tried to help him out that he got to know him enough to genuinely like him. And maybe he was being arrogant, but he really felt like he was helping him get over his melancholy and self-loathing. He tried to formulate this in a more humble way :

“I've got this,” he assured – _well, so much for humility_ , he added in his mind. “I know he's not always easy to read, but I'm doing my best to help him. And if he wants to go out, you know as well as I do that there's nothing we can do to stop him. If he seems to be somewhat indifferent about putting his life in danger, I assure you he'd never gamble with mine – nor with yours, for that matter. The best way to get him to be careful is to go with him so, if you'll allow me, he's waiting for me right now.”

He nodded goodbye and walked away, trying to maintain what little dignity he'd gained from his arguments. He could feel the blue eyes glare at him as he left the room, but did his best to ignore them.

 

 

Harry joined Draco near the front door, and only answered his questioning stare with a confident smile :

“Still wanna go ?”

“What a question,” Draco hissed. “Don't you think I need to blow off some steam, right now ? And I feel that it wouldn't hurt you to forget about this dinner, either...”

Harry nodded before he followed him outside. They'd slipped their wands along with the invisibility cloak in a leather pouch provided with an extension charm that Draco owned and that was, in his words, “ _way more discreet than that satchel monstrosity you carry around everywhere_ ”. They put the cloak on to get out of the property, and put it away again before they left the London alley they'd apparated in.

Whereas Harry felt alien and a bit lost walking in the street lined with nightclubs, Draco seemed to be at home. He navigated with ease through the crowd, obviously knowing which club he wished to grace with their presence. They eventually stopped to wait in line under a neon sign announcing they were about to get in the _“Velvet”_ , and Draco reached into his bag to grab a wallet filled with muggle currency. Harry raised his eyebrows and the blond man smiled at him enigmatically :

“The bag dates back to my old life. Back when I came here every night.”

“Every night ?!” Harry exclaimed.

He knew his partner had a tendency to excess, but he was under the impression that his adult life had been more orderly and uneventful. Draco must have seen that he didn't consider it to be a particularly good news, for he explained :

“It felt good to be myself in a place where no one knew my face nor my family. A lot of one-night stands. A great deal of alcohol. Too many drugs,” he summarised.

He'd announced that as a feat of arms, but Harry wasn't fooled : he knew the period had to be more depressive than it was festive. Draco stepped closer to him to reassure him, in a lower voice :

“I always used protection, and I've been clean for two years. Don't judge me for that part of my life.”

“That's not it,” Harry defended himself, even if this information reassured him a little. “It's just that I have trouble picturing you leading a double-life to get to be around _muggles_.”

He'd motioned the last words with his lips without actually saying it ; it was strange : he was not used to having to hide his nature anymore. It was all the more ironic since most men waiting around them to get in were likely to come here precisely to stop hiding their own natures.

He tried to picture what Draco's life was like, back then : being a wizard but rejected by society and presumably straight by day, or finally being allowed to be gay by night, but at the cost of renouncing everything he knew, complying with a non-magical world's rules that he'd never learned. None of the two sides seemed satisfying, but Harry was rather impressed by his lover's perseverance. He wondered if after years of playing that double game his coming-out had been more painful or liberating. Most likely a bit of both. They practically lived together at Hogwarts, but Draco never really spoke on the matter.

“You said it yourself,” the blond man answered, pulling him out of his thoughts : “my values have diverged a bit from the Malfoy/Black's since school... And it's partly thanks to places like this one. When it comes to music and booze _they_ 're doing pretty good,” he admitted.

Harry smiled and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. It felt particularly nice being able to share that kind of affectionate gestures in public without fearing homophobic remarks or paparazzi – he thought he might get used to it.

Draco was welcomed in the club like a regular, and Harry had to gulp down a few drinks before he felt as comfortable as his boyfriend, who attracted a lot of stares but didn't seem to care at all.

Once he was soaked enough, Harry decided it was time to put a stop to these thirsty glances and to mark his territory : that was _his_ blond, and he wasn't going to let anyone think otherwise. He dragged Draco to the dance floor and danced against him all night long, oblivious to the fatigue and his already sore muscles' protests – housecleaning days were hard on his body. The former Slytherin appeared to enjoy the situation, regularly filling up his partner's glass to keep him in this blissful disinhibition state.

Harry was glad Draco persuaded him to go out : it was exactly what he needed to release the tension while enjoying their life as a couple, which he was saddened to have to maintain in secrecy so often.

When Draco eventually suggested that they go home, Harry was sweaty and could barely stand. The blond man had to support him by the waist to step out of the club.

“I think I ruined your shirt,” Harry said with regrets, looking at the alcohol and sweat spots that competed for the lordship of the light fabric he was wearing in the streetlights's glow.

“Don't worry about it,” Draco said, checking as best he could that everything was in place in the pouch he'd just retrieved from the coat check.

He pulled him to the closest alley while trying to catch his wand to make them disapparate – Harry realised through his alcoholic fog that he was being a dead weight, but his body refused to obey him and walk straight without the Charms professor's support. Plus, he was enjoying letting go way too much to give it a real try ; Draco could be his nurse for one night, it was his birthday after all. Well, no, it was the day after his birthday, to be precise, and the desert streets told him that the reasonable time to get back home was long past – _it was a great birthday_ , he congratulated himself.

 

 

They stepped further in the badly lit alley, and Harry was surprised to hear Draco mutter incantations instead of immediately making them both disapparate :

“What are you...” He started.

The end of the question was lost in the racket of a hex crashing less than a meter from them, on the protective barrier Draco had just conjured. Under the shock, Harry felt himself sober up in a split second ; he let go of his lover's waist to look frantically around : he discerned dark silhouettes everywhere he laid eyes – they were surrounded.

“Put the cloak on !” Draco ordered, throwing the bag at him as other charms were hitting the precarious protection, making it visibly tremble and weaken.

“Have you met me ?” Harry retorted, grabbing his wand instead.

He focused for a second on the memory of their latest day with Teddy to get his patronus to appear, and he sent it to the Auror Department right away with an SOS. He heard a few orders to retreat following the silvery stag's departure, but none of the strangers disappeared, and the attacks went on.

Draco was fighting back as well as he could, rarely touching his targets because of the light flashes of the charms directed at them which made their assailants hard to make out. Harry estimated there were about ten people, but there may have been even more. Some of them were already lying on the ground, hit by the rebound of their own hexes on the invisible barrier. Right before it flinched, the former Gryffindor put his back on his partner's and started fending off the attacks coming his way. The aggressors seemed to be more hesitant on his side : the impacts of the charms deflected by Draco were resonating in the alley, giving him a sense of the violent fight he was putting up behind him.

“Get down !” Draco yelled, pulling on his collar just in time to see a red lightning fly over them and hit one of the attackers, on the other side of the circle.

The impact scattered the silhouettes some more, but the hexes rocketed again with renewed vigour as soon as they stood back up. Harry's reflexes were still slowed by alcohol, but luckily the adrenaline rush caused by fear made his survivor reflexes resurface ; he successfully knocked out three assailants in total, helped by the break provided by the protection Draco had managed to create around them again.

It seemed to be a lighter version of the _Protego Horribilis_ that Harry knew, but unfortunately it didn't resist for long to the numerous impacts it suffered. Surprised by its second sudden disappearance, Harry was violently projected on the side by a charm he didn't have time to deflect. He heard Draco call for him, but the other man was too overwhelmed to come help him.

The remaining masked silhouettes parted in two groups, and each professor was now alone to face his adversaries : three people were now surrounding Harry, who was still on the ground and bereft of his glasses because of the impact. Taking advantage of the fact that they believed he was knocked out, Harry cast the assailant facing him a powerful blasting curse, sending them crash brutally against a wall.

“Arsehole !” He heard a masculine voice yelling behind him. “ _Crucio_ !” it added before he had time to turn around.

A sharp pain took over his body, giving birth to an infinity of raw wounds reopening again and again in the midst of every one of his muscles. Screams were coming to his ears distantly, but he was unable to tell if they were his or someone else's. The agony stopped after what felt like an eternity, with the vaguely familiar shouts of the second attacker facing him :

“Have you completely lost your mind, Jarvey ?! That's not what we do !”

She was holding the man that'd cast the Unforgivable Curse at wandpoint, and Harry barely had time to see him disappear with a loud _crac_ before he caught sight of the Aurors starting to surround them all. Some assailants tried to disapparate too, but it was too late for them : the law enforcement, who came in great numbers, immobilised them one by one.

“I'm sorry,” the woman in front of Harry whispered right before she was captured in turn.

Harry looked as she was being dragged away before he picked up his glasses, which had fallen an arm's length away. After a _Reparo_ – and a thankful thought for Hermione – he turned his attention to the group on his left : he couldn't see Draco. He sprung to his feet, wincing when his thigh reminded him of the collision that he'd suffered, and ran to the crowd gathered there. An Auror pointed at him threateningly with his wand, surprised by the sudden movement.

“Get out of my way,” Harry shouted, out of patience.

“Mister Potter ! Sorry !” The young Auror crumbled when he recognised him.

Harry didn't bother answering and slipped through the crowd of his colleagues to try and reach his lover. He finally saw him, sitting against a wall, flanked by two crouching Aurors.

“Draco !” He called, anxious. “Are you all right ?”

The blond man looked up at him, letting him see his swollen face. His arm was also bleeding, and one of the Aurors was applying a bandage on the wound.

“Happy birthday,” he just hissed.

Harry resumed breathing : in spite of the apparent damage, Draco was still Draco all right. He wanted to take him in his arms, but the two Aurors were keeping him from getting close enough.

“Why don't you heal him directly ?” Harry asked the man who was finishing bandaging his arm instead of just closing the wound with a simple spell.

“I need to wait for my colleagues to list the injuries : you'll need proof of the assault to press charges. We'll do that at the office as soon as we're done here.”

Harry turned around : the rest of the Aurors were still gathering the – more or less conscious – hooded figures, and photographing the scene. Further away, towards the main street, a group of Obliviators were modifying the memories of a few muggles that must have been drawn by the racket.

A small woman that Harry didn't remember meeting headed towards him with a firm step :

“Good morning. Auror Khan,” she introduced herself. “I'm in charge of this operation. We can head to the office to take your statement : I think I'm done here.”

Harry was about to answer, but she'd already turned away to bark a few more orders at her team. Taking advantage of the disappearance of the two Aurors at the sight of their superior, Harry bent over to help Draco get on his feet.

“You scared the shite out of me,” he whispered, drawing him in his arms.

“ _I_ scared you ?!” Draco jumped, stepping back to have a look at him. “They hit you with a fucking Cruciatus Curse ! I lost it when I heard, that's when they got me,” he added, pointing to his summarily bandaged arm.

“Why didn't you make us disapparate when you realised we'd been trapped ?” Harry asked, remembering he'd had time to wonder which incantation Draco was casting before the first attack.

“That's a question to which you'll have to answer in my office,” Auror Khan cut them off, turning back to them.

 

 

One hour later, the three of them were in the Auror's office. When they'd arrived, Harry and Draco had been isolated to let Mediwizards check their injuries in order to list them before they could heal them. However, even once patched up, the two professors didn't have a change of clothes and still looked like a couple of boozers caught fighting outside the pub. Draco was telling about their night :

“... We turned in the alley to disapparate, and as I was looking for my wand I saw out of the corner of my eye that several people were following us from afar. Looking up I thought I noticed some movement in the back of the alley as well. Given the threats to my life, I figured it was no coincidence.”

“And why didn't you disapparate at that moment ?” Auror Khan questioned, looking up from the piece of paper in which her Quick-Quotes Quill was moving on its own.

“They know where I live,” Draco just said. “If I'd apparated at the Manor like it was planned, they may have followed us. Worst, maybe more of them were waiting for us there. In this case, they only relied on the element of surprise, so I gained the upper hand when I spotted them before they did anything. I decided to take the chance.”

“Noted. Please keep going.”

“I took my wand out discretely and I cast a _Protego Extendis_.”

“I beg your pardon ?” the Auror asked. “I don't think I'm familiar with that version of the spell.”

“I created it from _Protecto Horribilis_. It sets up a protective perimeter a few meters long around the wand that cast it ; it's quicker to put in place but it's also more fragile.”

“And _you_ created it ?” Khan repeated, interested.

“I'm the Charms professor at Hogwarts. I take interest in this field, and I've been experimenting for a few years.”

“Noted,” she answered. “Mister Potter, what were you doing at the moment ?”

Harry was embarrassed to see the Auror's attention shift to him ; he'd hoped he wouldn't have to specify the state he was in when they'd gotten out of the club...

“I was clinging to him to try and walk straight,” he said defiantly. “It was my birthday, I drank too much alcohol. I didn't realise what was happening until the first hex hit Draco's barrier.”

“I see,” the Auror said, turning back to the latter as if to say Harry's testimony was worthless. “Were you able to identify the person casting that hex ?”

“You saw them,” Draco answered. “They were all hooded. They started throwing spells all at once, it was impossible to tell them apart.”

“And you held them back all by yourself ?”

“No,” Draco refuted in a rush, peeking out at Harry. “I asked Harry to put on his invisibility cloak to stay protected, but he came to his senses. He sent out a patronus – to you, I presume – then we both defended ourselves.”

“Successfully so,” Khan completed. “You took out most of your attackers. How ?”

“Are we in trouble for defending ourselves ?” Draco asked suspiciously.

“To be honest,” Harry intervened, “most of them were hit by the rebound of their own hexes on the shielding charm. As for the rest, I guess we can be thankful to our remaining duelling skills.”

“I guess so,” the woman repeated calmly. “Last I heard, none of them was seriously injured : you're not in trouble.”

“Yeah, that would take the fucking cake,” Draco muttered, crossing his arms.

“Is there anything else I need to add to the report ?” The Auror questioned, ignoring that last remark.

“One of them cast a Cruciatus Curse,” Draco immediately reacted.

“Are you absolutely sure of it ?” Khan asked, frowning – the quill stopped for a minute. “It's a really serious accusation.”

“I'm sure,” Harry went on before his boyfriend exploded. “It was cast on me. Believe me, that's not a sensation you can confuse easily...”

“Can you tell me anything about the person that cast it ?” The Auror asked again as her quill was resuming its movements.

“It was a man,” Harry specified. “Rather tall, but I didn't see him long enough to be sure of anything : he disapparated when you arrived. His voice sounded familiar, but I can't recall where I heard it before.”

“Did others disapparate before we got there ?” Khan asked.

“No.”

“Perfect,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “so, the only one that escaped is the most dangerous one...”

“Jarvey,” Harry jumped. “The one that used the Cruciatus. I think that's the name I heard.”

The Auror stared at him, suddenly regaining interest :

“It's been reported several times that the members of Aguamenti are using beasts names as code names. That information is useful, it could help confirm our suspicions.”

“That's the only name I caught,” Harry said, “but I'm almost sure of it. And there's another voice I thought I recognised,” he added. “The woman who was facing me when you got there. Did you identify her ?”

The feminine voice was turning over and over around his mind without finding a face ; he couldn't stop that infernal echo.

“We identified most of the attackers,” the Auror confirmed, “but I'm afraid I can't communicate those informations to you. On the other hand, I can tell you that some of them were there when you were attacked in Hogsmeade last month, too. We had to release them back then because of the lack of evidence, but this time the premeditation and belonging to Aguamenti will be hard to refute. Now, I still have a few questions for you, if I may. First, how many people knew where to find you tonight ?”

“None,” Draco claimed. “We decided to go out last minute, my mother was the only one to know. But even she didn't know where we were headed exactly.”

The Auror frowned :

“Is it possible that you may have been followed earlier ? When you arrives in London, for instance.”

“We used an invisibility cloak to get out of the Manor and apparate in a muggle alley safely. There's absolutely no way someone could have followed us without knowing where we were going in the first place.”

Harry could see Draco had already thought about this : his answers were specific, and he seemed to anticipate the Auror's questions.

“Is it a place you often go to ?” Khan kept going.

“First time for me,” Harry answered.

“I used to go there on a regular basis,” Draco said. “But not since the Christmas holidays.”

Harry smiled in spite of himself : that meant Draco had stopped going out to flirt the minute they became an item. The Auror's voice brought him back to the current situation :

“Did you notice any suspicious behaviour during the night ? People who took a particular interest in you, or who seemed abnormally nervous ?”

“Nothing like that,” Draco refuted.

“Nothing,” Harry confirmed under the Auror's questioning stare.

“Was there anyone you knew, tonight ? Meaning people who saw you before and could have identified you.”

“I knew the bouncer and the coat check girl,” Draco answered. “Muggles with whom I get along fine. I didn't know the rest of the staff. As for the customers, I recognised some faces, regulars, but I didn't know their names and vice versa.

“Well, we will check with those two employees, that's a start.”

None of the two professors found that to be encouraging, but they were too exhausted to argue with her. The wall clock was pointing to seven, and the thought of the giant bed covered in pillows in Draco's room was progressively taking over Harry's mind. They were able to escape after they'd filed a complaint, and the former Gryffindor was still wondering where they'd found the strength to disapparate when they laid in the Manor's fluffy bed, falling asleep in less time than it takes to say “ambush”.

 

 


	9. You and Me

 

Teddy was already prepared to leave when Harry came to pick him up that morning. Andromeda had confessed to him that, even if he adored Draco, the child sometimes regretted to have to share his godfather – therefore, Harry had taken advantage of the fact that Andromeda had asked him to come babysit Teddy on the first Saturday of August to plan a whole day of activities just for the two of them.

Harry wasn't unhappy about that break : once the shock of his birthday night had worn off, the following days had been filled with the developments of the investigation and the tensions they caused – both in his couple and with Ron. Harry got back to Earth when Teddy, who was expecting him impatiently in front of the chimney, jumped in his arms as a “ _hello_ ”.

“Hi, Bug,” he said, hugging him back.

“I have a gift for your birthday !” Teddy exclaimed, handing him a small package.

“Is that so ? Thank you !” He said as he greeted Andromeda.

“Go on, open it !” The child became impatient.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. But you know we have the whole day together, right ? There's no rush !”

The good thing about Teddy was that he never gave him any time to overthink : no matter the things Harry was worrying about when he arrived, his mind didn't have a minute to think about it once he'd stepped inside the Tonks' house. It was exhausting sometimes, but it was radical.

The DADA professor carefully unwrapped the present, taking his time – a bit to make the pleasure last, and a lot to annoy the boy who was holding his breath during the process. He eventually discovered a frame decorated with relief patterns (a broomstick and quidditch balls), that held a photograph of Draco, Teddy and himself getting off their brooms two months earlier at the Manor. Teddy quickly explained that he'd made the frame himself with salt dough, paint, and a little help from his grandmother. In addition to being moved by the fact that he'd spent so much time on his present, Harry just loved to see his partner and godson around him on the picture, laughing together, being a family – as unconventional as it was. He thanked Teddy, cautiously put the frame back in the paper to protect it in his satchel bag and, after a few more recommendations from Andromeda, they went out together to apparate next to a lake where Harry had planned a picnic for them.

Harry realised he hadn't enjoyed a day in the sun for a very long time : in spite of Teddy's unlimited energy, it was the most relaxing day of the week. Once his godson had finished engulfing his lunch and had tired himself enough chasing after squirrels, Harry announced their following destination to him : a friendly Caerphilly Catapults game, his favourite team ; a joy explosion later, they were walking towards the small Welsh stadium.

The crowd was way less dense than for the Europe Cup, of course, which didn't really allow them to blend in : several people came to greet Harry, ask him for an autograph, and occasionally take a picture with him. Teddy was always captivated by the attention received by his godfather, and Harry wasn't comfortable with the awe he read in the child's eyes in that kind of situation : he'd rather be congratulated for his ongoing efforts than for “achievements” that were imposed on him before he was even old enough to fully understand them. He'd talked about it with Teddy before, but he knew it would take the lassitude of adolescence for him to be ready to get his godfather off his pedestal.

Security was heavier than usual, but after all the Aurors were after one of their own. Indeed, the _Velvet_ 's bouncer had identified Eliott Dawkins as the one that'd asked him to inform him of Draco's presence – under false pretences.

Dawkins was the attacker that'd fled the previous Monday : the one that'd hit him with a _Cruciatus_. That was his wife Harry had sent crashing against a wall just before that, which supposedly triggered that disproportionate reaction. Even more disturbing, the woman that'd stopped the Unforgivable Curse was not on the list of people that were suspected Aguamenti members, unlike every other assailant. It was Cho Chang.

Harry's blood had frozen in his veins when Ron had told him the news the following day : until then, the terrorist group was a faceless entity, a distant threat that hit them kind of randomly. Now, he had to admit that it was an ideology that gathered way more than a few weirdos. _Fucking_ _Cho Chang_. He understood now why she'd apologised to him when she was being arrested. She was held in the Ministry's cells with the others. Dawkins was still running free.

As a result, Harry's identity and wand were double-checked at the stadium entrance, like everyone's. But, unlike the other spectators, he knew why.

Like it was meant to make him forget about that, the game was particularly satisfying : the Wimbourne Wasps didn't stand a chance in front of the Catapults, whose chasers were being both ferocious and methodical. Teddy was jumping on his seat, roaring with the crowd with each new goal. After two hours, his voice started to tire and he could barely protest when the Wasps' seeker waved the golden snitch around – but, after all, the score gap was too important for it to make a difference on the outcome of the match. The Catapults flew a victory lap to celebrate, and Harry caught Darren Floyd's gaze as he passed them by.

“Hey, Teddy, would you like to meet the team ?” He offered.

“For real ?!” The boy exclaimed.

Harry smiled : his godson's continued enthusiasm was a true reservoir for his patronuses. They went down the stairs towards the security checkpoint, where Harry didn't have any trouble getting access to the pitch – all right, there were also a few perks to being the hero of the wizarding world. They asked for Darren, like he'd done many times back when they were dating, and the man appeared from the locker room with a mix of surprise and amusement :

“Oh my, a ghost from the past !” He joked, patting Harry roughly on the shoulder, probably displacing a bone or two in the process.

“Hi, Darren...” The DADA professor started.

“And who's _this_ young man ?” The beater cut him off, crouching to face an ecstatic Teddy.

“I'm Teddy,” the latter claimed. “Harry's my godfather !”

Darren quickly looked up at Harry :

“Teddy, like the wee kid whose picture you carried around with you all the time ?! Merlin, we're not getting any younger !” He observed, ruffling the child's still silvery blond hair.

“Can we see Sinead Crampton, too ?” Teddy asked with hopeful eyes. “She's my favourite player !”

“Okay, none taken,” Darren answered, feigning to be offended.

“Don't take it personally,” Harry explained : “Teddy has posters of Crampton all over his room. I'm pretty sure she's the reason he wants to be a chaser, later. You played really well, but you cant' compete,” he concluded with a playful smile.

“In that case, I'll see what I can do,” he assured with a wink.

Five minutes later, the three of them were in the team's locker room, meeting the players and joking around like they'd all known each other for a long time. Teddy was impressed, but his curious and talkative nature took over rapidly : he made everyone laugh, and even his hero fell under his spell. Before they left, she offered him to fly with her for a bit. Harry and Darren stayed on the ground to watch them, preferring to let the boy share a privileged moment with his favourite player.

“So, how are things ?” Harry eventually asked his ex-boyfriend upon realising that they'd only exchanged small talk up to this point.

“Good,” Darren answered. “The Europe Cup drained me a little, but I'll be ready for the new season in September. Do you still see Ginny ?” He asked out of nowhere.

“Less and less,” Harry confessed. “She's been mad at me for not staying to congratulate you after the final. Well played, by the way ! Why do you ask ?”

“I didn't know what she might have told you lately,” the beater answered uneasily. “I'm seeing someone. And it's serious.”

“Oh ?” Harry reacted, surprised he didn't mention it when they last saw each other. “If you're happy, that's great news,” he added softly.

“I am,” Darren confirmed. “As a matter of fact, we're looking into adoption... It's kind of the reason I'm bringing it up.”

“You'd like to go through The Light Switch ?” Harry asked, starting to catch up.

“I know you guys do an amazing job. And, I'm not gonna lie, it's also because you don't have a problem with gay couples' applications...”

Harry nodded : that matter had been much debated in a society in which same-sex couples weren't even allowed to get married. But he'd refused to yield and successfully defended their right to adopt, reminding that all of the potential parents had to go through a thorough evaluation anyway.

“Of course. We're having our fundraiser in two weeks, I'll send two invites your way so that we can discuss this, if that's all right with you.”

“That would be perfect. Thanks, Harry,” Darren said, hugging him briefly as Teddy was running towards them.

“Hey, Uncle Harry, did you see ? Sinead taught me the Wollallong Shimmy !”

“ _Wollongong_ ,” Crampton corrected, joining them. “And you're pretty good at it : keep practising and you may be part of the team someday,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

The child's eyes, already filled with stars, opened so wide Harry feared his eyeballs might pop out at any moment.

“Ready to leave, Bug ?” He asked. “I promised Nanny I'd bring you home by seven.” _And Draco's going to atomise me if I'm late for dinner_ , he added in his head.

“Already ?” Teddy complained.

“Oi, I think our day's been pretty busy already, hasn't it ?” Harry protested.

“Yeaaaah,” his godson admitted with a drawl.

After the appropriate _Thank You_ s and _Goodbye_ s, they left the pitch for the boy's house, where he tried to tell his grandmother about the whole day in one long unintelligible sentence. Harry waited for him to catch his breath to announce his departure : it was half past seven, and he could picture his boyfriend pacing in front of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, waiting for him. They'd made a habit of having dinner there together every evening, whether they'd spent the day working on the house or not – it was their ritual, and it allowed them to stabilise their relationship a bit in these troubled times.

Harry knew he'd have to apologise when he'd get there, but he'd never have imagined the chaos he'd have to face when he'd finally arrive at the  _Noble and Most Ancient House of Black._

 

_~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~_

 

Draco expected to see Harry appear in the fireplace any minute ; yet, when the green flames rose, his heart skipped a beat. What if he'd forgotten something ? What if Harry resented him ? What if he left him, right then, because he was disappointed ?

A loud “Happy birthday !” cut his paranoia short : Harry was here, scanning the living room, trying to figure out what was going on. Draco saw his eyes fill with tears as he recognised the faces of his friends gathered for his surprise birthday. By the time Draco decided to go hug him, Granger had already done so ; he could have been jealous if Weasley wasn't standing right next to them with their child, reminding him that there was nothing to be worried about on that matter.

“Draco ! Draco !” Teddy shouted, running to him as soon as he'd stepped foot in the room.

“Hey, Rug Rat,” he answered, patting him on the shoulder. “So, was it a good day ?”

“The best ! I met Sinead Crampton ! She taught me the Wollonllong Shimmy, I'll show you next time !”

Draco didn't comment on the child's poor pronunciation, which at least had the virtue to get him to smile in spite of his high anxiety level.

“I can't wait to see that.”

“Say, can you come with us, next time ?”

“Depends,” Draco tempered, “we'll have to ask Harry if it's all right with him.”

“If what's all right with me ?” The voice of the former Gryffindor interrupted them.

He still looked emotional, and Draco stopped himself from drawing him in his arms to make the last tears that looked about to drop from his eyes disappear.

“That Draco comes to watch me with you next time,” Teddy repeated.

“Of course that's all right, as long as he wants to,” his godfather said with a smile.

“Awesome,” Teddy answered, “I hope it will be soon !”

“All right, Bug, I'm sure there's plenty of stuff you want to tell Victoire, now,” Harry said, pushing him towards the blond girl.

As soon as the boy was far enough, Harry turned to Draco :

“Did you do all of this ?!” He asked, designating the whole room in a circular motion.

“You'll have to be more specific,” Draco replied : “if by _all of this_ you mean renovating the room, Andromeda and Longbottom helped me a little. If you mean getting about every person you ever met to come here, you have to thank Granger and Weasley's social skills.”

“But this was your idea,” Harry argued, staring at him.

“Yes,” the blond man admitted. “You couldn't bother to plan your party yourself, so...”

He stopped the sentence there, but for him it was also trial by fire : the opportunity for Harry to confirm that his partner choice wouldn't be compatible with the rest of his loved ones. Draco couldn't picture a future for them in those conditions, and after tonight Harry would probably feel the need to make a decision. And if, as Draco believed, he was the one about to suffer from it, at least he'd have chosen the date of his execution himself. Might as well leave the floor on a high note and give Harry the best night possible : if this was to come to an end, he wanted to make sure the other man would regret him for a long time.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, taking his hands. “I'm really touched. It kind of compromises the safety of the house – which was mainly due to the fact that no one knew where to find us – but thank you.”

“Weasley oversaw the guest list, if anyone tries to kill us I'll hold him fully responsible.”

“He must've been thrilled to hear that,” Harry laughed softly. “I want to kiss you,” he added after a short silence.

“What's stopping you ?” Draco asked defiantly.

He saw Harry smile before standing on tiptoe to lay a tender, yet chaste, kiss on his lips.

“Will you be all right ?” He worried, cupping his face with one hand.

“Of course I will,” Draco answered, gripping his fingers because the looks he could feel on them made him uneasy. “Come on, now, go greet your guests : just because it's your birthday it doesn't mean you get to be rude.”

He thought this would allow him to slip away, but Harry kept a hold on his hand to pull him gently towards the nearest group : George Weasley, his four-eyed brother who worked at the Ministry and whose name he didn't remember, and Angelina Johnson. These were probably the people that had glared at him the most since they'd arrived ;  _Harry always makes the best decisions_ , Draco thought bitterly.

The greetings, as cold they were, had the advantage of letting Draco know that the other Weasley's name was Percy. There were too many of them for him to remember all of the names at the end of the evening, but he took what he could get.

“So, George, I didn't hear from you in ages !” Harry exclaimed. “Did you get my package for your birthday ?”

Draco was wondering if he really wasn't aware of his interlocutor's hostile attitude or if he was just pretending to try and lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” the redhead answered gloomily. “I didn't take the time to reply, sorry. But it was a good read. Really funny. Thanks.”

“I saw Freddy when I came in, he's grown so much !” Harry went on, not letting himself be discouraged. “Is he happy to have Louis around now, to not be alone with all of these girls at family events anymore ?”

“Big deal,” Johnson answered in a friendlier way, “his father's more relieved than he is ! Fred is obsessed with Rose already, he's only waiting for her to start walking to be able to cause mayhem with her behind our backs, so a baby is of little interest to him.”

“I get that,” Harry said, laughing. “Patience was never the Weasleys' biggest virtue.”

He ran a hand through his own already messed up hair and, even if Draco knew he mostly did that when he was feeling uncomfortable, he couldn't help but smile at how it was so very  _Harry –_ and still extremely cute after years of seeing him do so.

“Oh, you think this is funny ?” George hissed.

“What ?” Draco jumped when he eventually understood he was talking to him.

_What were they talking about before Harry made the whole world disappear again ?_

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he admitted.

“Yeah, right,” the redhead muttered. “That's clearly not like you to have a go at our family...”

“You strongly overestimate my interest in you,” Draco retorted in a scathing tone before he could stop himself.

The ginger ignored him and turned to Harry :

“If you'll excuse me, I don't necessarily want to talk to everyone here. I'm gonna grab a drink. Want anything, Angie ?”

_Awkward_. Draco's whole brain was on red alert : if he decided to retaliate again, he'd have a full assembly ready to gang up on him – no thanks, his Slytherin mind forbade him from putting himself at risk this foolishly.

“If you have something to say, George, just say it, I don't have time for your passive-aggressive comments.”

_Stupid, stupid, stupid..._ Oh. Never mind. It took a few seconds for him to realise that the voice that'd answered was not his own. To his right, Harry was clenching his fists and glowering at Weasley.

“You already know what I have to say to you,” George replied, face turning red with anger. “What the fuck are you doing, Harry ?! What are you doing with _him_ ?” He emphasised, openly pointing at Draco. “Have you completely lost your memory ?!”

Draco's blood felt like it was running in reverse in his veins : his whole body had paused, aware that there was no running from conflict anymore. He wasn't surprised, nor angry, even : he was used to dealing with hostility. He put on his most indifferent face – the one that everyone called his haughty face – and made a point to stare at George unblinkingly.

“First,” Harry responded calmly, “I don't think I asked for anyone's opinion regarding my love life. Secondly, you probably haven't spoken to each other in ten years, which kinda makes it difficult to judge whether or not you're both still as dumb as when you were bloody _teenagers_.”

“It's pretty clear for at least one of us,” the redhead answered spitefully.

_Pretty clear indeed_ , Draco thought, raising a contemptuous eyebrow, still decided on letting Weasley's anger flow right through him. Harry turned to Angelina, powerless.

“Don't give me that look, Harry, I'm with him on this one...”

Percy didn't say a thing, but nodded in turn.

“I'm disappointed in you. All of you,” Harry concluded. “As for you Percy, I thought you of all people could understand that it happens, being on the wrong side of a conflict. And that it's never too late to realise you've been mistaken.”

“That was completely different !” The man protested, straightening his glasses.

Draco didn't know what this was about, but he could feel it was a sensitive matter.

“You're right, actually,” Harry answered. “ _You_ grew up on the right side, and it was your own choice to betray your family to serve your ambition. On the other hand, Draco's mistake was missing to realise soon enough that everything he'd been taught since he was born was biased ( _Ouch_ , Draco thought, picturing his mother's face if she'd heard him say something like that), and to me it makes a big difference indeed. But it doesn't matter, I decided to forgive both of you. Too bad I'm the only one giving second chances around here.”

Draco couldn't take it anymore : considering the exhaustion he was feeling because of the party planning, he knew that if he stood there listening to Harry he was going to start screaming, or crying, or more likely an embarrassing bit of both. He decided to retreat to go check that Kreacher was circulating platters of food like he was supposed to. Harry tried to hold him back, but Draco reassured him with a confident smile and the other man let go of his hand with apologetic eyes.

 

 

Draco was looking for the house-elf when he felt a friendly hand on his back ; turning around, he came face-to-face with Neville and his famous uneasy smile :

“Hey mate,” the Herbology professor tried, “you all right ?”

“Fucking great,” Draco said sarcastically. “Having the time of my life... I mean, if I had to choose between tonight and the night we were attacked by Aguamenti... No, never mind, I think I'd choose Aguamenti after all.”

“What night ?” Neville worried. “You were attacked ?! When ?”

Draco gave himself a mental slap on the wrist : the Aurors hadn't spread the news to protect their ongoing investigation.

“No, I meant, the time we were attacked in Hogsmeade,” he tried to dodge. “What about you, are you having a good night ? Have you eaten ? I can't find the bloody elf, I'm sure he forgot to pass out the food...”

“Erm,” Neville hesitated. “Do you want to sit down for a bit ? I'm sure the elf is doing perfectly fine on his own. Come on, I see Ginny and Luna on the couch over there, let's join them.”

Draco would rather have done the house-elf's work himself than go see Weaslette, but Neville pushed him gently by the shoulders, leaving him no chance to escape – none that didn't involve violence, anyway. Draco was still able to grab a drink on the way : if he had to go, he would at least have fuel. Longbottom made him sit on the armrest, and the two women turned to them calmly. Since Neville had already greeted them earlier that evening, they fell out of words sooner than expected. Draco hated blanks in a conversation, so he tried :

“I saw you play the Europe Cup final,” he told Ginny, trying to sound relaxed. “Well played, you have a good mastery of sharp changes of direction, it saved the day more than once.”

“Thanks,” the ginger said coldly, gulping down the rest of her beer. “I guess you're the reason Harry didn't stick around to say hi, but hey...”

Draco sighed :

“Looks like I'm gonna spend a hell of a night. There's no denying it, you people really know how to make others feel comfortable...”

“ _Us people_ ? My family you mean ?” Ginny jumped at his throat. “Let's get things straight : our brother died in the Battle of Hogwarts and, do you see Bill over there ? He's left with that face because _you_ let Greyback in the castle the night Dumbledore died – oh, wait, _that_ was your fault too, wasn't it ? So, yeah, we're having trouble making _you_ feel comfortable... And of course there's the fact that you've always been a fucking cunt, too, it sure doesn't help...”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Lovegood's nebulous voice chimed in. “You know, Ginny, I don't recall him being unpleasant once during the whole time we spent in his cellar. He even brought us some water from time to time...”

All right. Maybe it was best to leave blanks in _that_ conversation. Draco took a long swig of his cocktail.

“Do you even realise what you're saying ?” The redhead asked her friend softly.

Luna looked at her, intrigued, obviously not seeing the issue with mentioning that episode.

“All right, Gin',” Neville cut them off, “let's move on, now. Draco busted his arse organising the whole party, let's not ruin this for him.”

“Don't sweat it, Longbottom,” Draco intervened, “I'm used to it.”

“Are you kidding me ? You are _not_ playing the victim, on top of it all !” Weaslette started again.

“Ginny !” The Herbology professor lost patience. “Can you _please_ take a break ? We owe that to Harry...”

“You always blindly approved of every one of Harry's choices, anyway,” the redhead retorted. “I don't even know why I thought it would be different, this time.”

“You're being unfair,” Neville objected, blushing. “And, your memory is short : if I remember this right you were there at the time I almost cut ties with him because of the article he'd written about Snape. I'm old enough to make my own decisions, thank you.”

“Sorry, Nev',” Weasley answered, biting her lip. “It was not personal.”

“I'm the one who published the article,” Luna said sadly. “I didn't mean for it to upset you.”

“I know, Luna, it's just that... There's a difference between highlighting someone's good deeds and completely obliterating their toxic behaviours... If a professor treated the students the way he did nowadays, I'd do everything in my power to have them fired. But I'm not blaming you,” he added kindly.

_Wow_ , Draco thought, _it's getting too touchy-feely_.

“Okay, I'm outta here before you start painting each other's toenails,” he announced. “You'd be kind to wait until I'm at a reasonable distance to start hugging.”

“Yeah, just piss off,” he heard Ginny mutter as he walked away.

 

 

Since he couldn't spot Kreacher anywhere, he immediately headed to the kitchen to get him to activate – the elf obeyed him easily, but he tended to let himself go as soon as he was out of eyesight.

Going back up towards the living-room, Draco sent the tray he was carrying to levitate and serve the guests on its own. The elf went in the room, but Draco stopped in the staircase when he heard someone say his name near the door. He stepped back a little towards the dark landing to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“... more or less apologised when we met to plan the party, but I get where George is coming from,” Hermione's voice was saying.

“Not you too,” Harry whined. “ _Mione_ , you're above that...”

“I'm sorry, Harry, I know he's really trying to change.”

“... But ?”

“But I don't want to pick up the pieces of you when you realise that he just can't,” Granger apologised.

“You don't get it,” Harry protested. “There's nothing to change. None of you know him like I do...”

“But I know _you_ , Harry. And I know that you'll try to save this relationship even if it means you have to lose yourself. The thing is, I'm afraid you won't be able to get back up, this time...”

Harry didn't answer, and his silence was a confession beyond any word. Draco felt all of the pressure that had accumulated because of the party preparations go up his spine ; tears made his vision blurry, and he silently went down a few steps to lean back against the railing and try to calm down.

He could feel the weight of the small silver knife in his pocket, and he had a furious desire of using it to drain out some of the distress and disgust that were taking over him. How many people would notice he was gone ? How long would it take Harry to find him ? Remembering his face the last time he'd found him right after he'd cut himself at Hogwarts, Draco knew he didn't want to put him through this anymore. Pity, despair... He never wanted to see those in the green eyes again. So, he just stood there, waiting for the tears to dry out and for his breathing to quiet down.

“Draco ?”

Harry's voice on the landing startled him. He kept his head down.

“Draco, are you all right ?” He repeated, moving down to the highest step.

The Charms professor looked up at Harry without a word. Fucking hell, his worried face was even more depressing seen from below.

“Happy birthday,” he said ironically with a hoarse voice he immediately damned.

“Fuck, it's the second time you've made the same lousy joke, it must be serious,” the other man teased softly. “Is it George ?” He asked, putting a hand on his cheek.

“No,” Draco answered. “I can handle aggressiveness. But Granger, it's...” He didn't know how to explain it : hearing the woman's arguments, calm and reasoned, had hurt him a hundred times more than any aggression he'd ever suffered from Harry's other loved ones. “She's right,” he stated eventually, lowering his gaze again.

“Hey,” Harry intervened, cupping his face with both hands to get him to look in his eyes. “It's not true. I know Hermione is often right, but not this time.”

“How can you be so sure ?!” Draco got angry. “You didn't even know what to say to her...”

“Because there's no need,” Harry justified himself. “She doesn't get us, and that's not something I can explain. Because she doesn't realise how alike we are, you and me. We understand each other beyond any logic : you know why I wake up screaming at night and, even if I don't like it, I get why you feel the need to hurt yourself sometimes. We're still too scarred by the past, but I sincerely think that we're starting to get through. And I have a feeling, too, that you're trying to sabotage us again, with your party. But it's not happening : as long as you want me, I'll be here.”

He looked determined : his eyes fucking radiated confidence, and Draco wanted to believe him really, really bad.

“They'll never understand,” he still wept, letting the scared little boy that was always whispering in a corner of his mind take the control.

“Who cares,” Harry roared. “You have me. The others will need some time. And it's okay : I'm not going anywhere, I'll still be here when they've adjusted. Some may even never get it. But I don't care, fuck them. I love you, Draco.”

He laid a kiss on his forehead and drew him against his chest, giving time to the last tears to escape the grey eyes.

“You're always so melodramatic,” Draco taunted him, breathing in the familiar and comforting smell of his T-shirt.

“You're one to talk, Queen Malfoy,” Harry retorted, stifling a laughter in his hair.

 

 

After a few more minutes enjoying the peace, Harry's stomach ordered them to go back to the living room, where food platters were still circulating. They attracted a lot of stares on the way, but Harry visibly wished to give Draco a break and headed towards a small group composed of Minerva McGonagall and other Hogwarts professors. The former Slytherin's panic calmed down long enough to allow him to eat, and he even had a few friendly – if not particularly exciting – conversations in the following hour. He was chatting with Hannah Abbott and Dean Thomas, under Finnigan's annoyed glare, when he heard Molly Weasley call out :

“Come on, everyone, it's time for Harry to open his presents, gather around !”

No one even considered contradicting her, and Draco stepped closer to the side table that had been set in the back of the room along with everybody else. Most of the gifts were tasteful, and Granger's was even truly impressive : she'd successfully transfigured muggle CDs into vinyl records which Harry could play on the phonograph he owned at Hogwarts. She'd hit hard, but Draco wasn't worried : his own present was one of its kind.

It was the last one Harry unwrapped and, even if the mere sheet that was covering it revealed pretty clearly that it was a painting, Draco knew the former Gryffindor wouldn't be completely ready to uncover it. Harry lifted the cloth, and the room went quiet for a few seconds.

“Oh, James, here's our Harry ! Look how handsome he is !”

“What did you expect ? I mean, have you seen his parents ?!”

James and Lily Potter's voices were rising from the portrait and, after a short paralysis, Harry ran his hand on his mother's painted face.

“Hi, Peanut,” James said, looking at him proudly.

Harry didn't dare answer. He turned to Draco :

“How is that possible ?”

“An Irish painter,” Draco explained, getting closer for fear that he'd collapse. “He uses photos, letters, memories... It's not perfect, but... I had to borrow your memory box,” he apologised.

The box in question contained about everything Harry cared about. The latter had been upset a few weeks earlier when he saw it in Draco's hands ( _“Come on, Potter, we're talking about a box hidden under your bed, of course I was going to dig through it !”_ ), but tonight he didn't seem to mind.

If Draco was being honest, it would have been more accurate to say “ _I had to borrow your memory box, collect some from every person who kind of knew your parents, including your muggle aunt, whom I found thanks to your cousin's phone number scribbled on a note on your desk, and retrieve the pensieve from Dumbledore's cabinet with the help of his portrait,_ ” but they'd have time to go through technicalities later.

Harry had wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held onto him like his life depended on it :

“Thank you... thank you, thank you, thank you...”

He was sniffling between each word, and Draco was starting to think that he may have overdone it.

“I didn't mean to...” He whispered in his ear. “Are you all right ?”

Harry nodded and hugged him a little tighter. Everyone was staring at them, but Draco didn't care one bit : he ran a comforting hand on his boyfriend's back and laid a kiss through the black hair that was tickling his nose :

“Happy birthday, Potter.”

“I like it better when you say it this way,” Harry stated, taking a step back.

His smile was clashing with his puffy and reddened eyes, but he looked truly happy when he turned around to look at the painting some more before thanking the guests one by one.

Molly Weasley came closer to Draco ; she looked shaken, and he wondered if he was about to be in trouble with one more member of this family. However, she just put a hand on his shoulder :

“That was a wonderful gift that you gave Harry.”

“Thank you ?” Draco answered, not sure where she was going with this.

“For what it's worth, I'm glad he has someone that would go to such lengths for him,” she concluded, leaving him on the spot.

Ginny hurried to her mother the minute she was far enough from him, but Draco was too flabbergasted to care. Molly Weasley wasn't physically impressive, but everything in her attitude was intimidating – to have what sounded like her blessing was a small miracle.

Draco had kept a place of honour for the painting above the mantelpiece, and he hung it up without further delay. Harry watched it again before grabbing his satchel bag ; he took out a wrinkled package that was holding a small frame.

“Teddy's gift,” he explained when he saw Draco's questioning look.

He put it on the fireplace mantel and took a step back to see how it all looked.

“Now, I feel at home,” he said, grinning.

Draco couldn't've agreed more : he'd chosen the best pieces of furniture, Neville'd advised him on the prettiest low-maintenance houseplants, and Andromeda'd helped him set up a room that looked like Harry's, but the family portraits were definitely what suited him best. Plus, he loved the photograph – in spite of the fact that his hair was tousled and he was quite sweaty in it.

 

 

The rest of the evening was less nerve-wrecking and Draco went back to his role as host, even walking the guests to the door as they were progressively leaving – as a safety measure, the Floo connections had not been extended beyond the three existing ones. Just as at the beginning of the party, he dodged the questions about Walburga Black's disappearance from her portrait more or less deftly : no matter the method, since it'd worked out.

When he went back up the stairs after escorting Neville and Hannah out – they'd lingered a bit to help them clean up as much as possible – he found Harry sitting on the floor, eyes set on the portrait. He looked infinitely sad, and Draco regretted his gift once again :

“It wasn't a good idea,” he said softly, crouching behind the other man to hug him.

“What wasn't ?” Harry asked absent-mindedly.

“The portrait. It makes you sad...”

“Are you kidding ?” Harry jumped. “It's the greatest gift anyone ever got me...”

“Oi,” James's voice protested, “I passed on to you _the_ invisibility cloak and a map that took us forever to...”

“Shut it, James,” Lily protested, nudging him affectionately. “This is worth way more than your old stuff.”

“The greatest gift,” Harry confirmed, leaning back against Draco some more.

They remained there in silence for a few minutes, until Draco found the courage to ask the question that was bothering him :

“How do you think they would've reacted to us... To me ?”

Harry took some time to think before he answered gently :

“I think my dad would have hated you.”

“Just great. Thanks...”

“It's nothing personal,” Harry laughed. “But he used to be kind of a bully back in school, too... You would've reminded him of that aspect of his personality a bit too much, I think.”

James protested vehemently, but his wife nodded, giggling.

“My mum,” Harry went on, “I think she'd have gotten you. I feel like she was good at seeing through people...”

“Oh, thank you sweetie,” Lily reacted lovingly.

James held her tightly, and Harry kept going :

“But, you know, in the end their opinions wouldn't've mattered either. I dare believe that they wished for me to be happy above all, and that they would've seen that you're the one bringing me joy, but in any case a relationship is between two people only. It's just you and me. All right ?”

“All right,” Draco whispered, laying his chin on his lover's shoulder.

Harry and him. It was all he'd ever wanted. He could feel that the DADA professor needed some more time, and he stood up to give him some space.

“Can I sleep at your place tonight ?” Harry asked as soon as he was up. “I don't want to be alone... And, most of all, I really want to be with you,” he added when he saw Draco's pout at the thought of being the default solution.

“No, you can't,” the former Slytherin refused, receiving a sudden frown. “Because I'd rather we both stay here tonight,” he completed, proud of the effect.

“Here ?” Harry repeated, confused. “It's fine for taking naps, but the mattress really isn't that good...”

“If you think I intend to sleep in that lousy room, think again,” Draco answered, offering his hand to help him up. “Come on.”

He pulled him towards the staircase and, when he kept going up towards the third floor, Harry intervened :

“What did you...”

“Don't worry,” Draco cut him off, “I know you want to keep the fourth floor's rooms as they are.”

The fourth floor was housing Sirius's and Regulus's old bedrooms and, if Harry had sanitised them, he'd clearly stated that no change was to be made in there. However, he hadn't said anything about the third floor's gigantic bedroom. Draco pushed its door, sent blue flames in the various luminaries, and left Harry to discover the room by himself. The latter took a long look around and walked towards the large canopy bed that Draco had refurbished using a lot of charms.

“You've really been busy,” he noticed, in awe, running his fingers on the midnight blue curtains. “That's gorgeous.”

“I know,” Draco bragged. “And you'll note that the mirror looks way better in here.”

Since he was already blowing his own horn, might as well take the opportunity to remind his boyfriend that he'd offered him a lot of gifts lately.

“That's right,” Harry smiled, sitting on the bed. “And I also note that it's facing the bed, and not in the walk-in closet I saw over there...”

“It was more _Feng Shui_ that way,” Draco joked, sitting next to him.

He wasn't entirely sure of what it meant, but he'd read the term in every home design magazine he'd read : apparently, it was something important for muggles.

“It was a truly surprising day,” Harry claimed, lying down on his back. “Exhausting, too...”

Draco turned off all of the lights with a flick of his wand and lay down in turn.

“What's...” Harry babbled upon noticing the panel Draco had set up on the ceiling over the bed. “Did you really do that ?!”

Draco watched the fruits of his labour for a bit : what seemed to be a gaping hole in the ceiling, showing the night sky. He'd stolen the idea from the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but the realisation was his work entirely.

“I've worked my arse off on this one,” he said. “But the window's too far from the bed, you couldn't have seen the moonlight...”

Harry cuddled against him :

“Did I tell you how extraordinary you are, already ?” He asked.

“You can say it again as much as you want,” Draco answered with a satisfied grin.

“But, please tell me that it doesn't mean I have to top that for your next birthday...” Harry grunted.

“Nah, don't worry... It just means I love you more...”

“Not true,” Harry replied in a sleepy voice. “But I'm too tired to debate right now. We'll put a pin on that...”

It only took him a couple of minutes to start breathing loudly, informing Draco that he'd fallen asleep, fully dressed against him. The blond man pulled him further onto the bed and took off his glasses, wondering how many times he'd broken them by falling asleep like that before he was here to take care of him. He liked that idea – being useful to Harry. Even if it was merely to prevent him from casting _Reparo_ every morning.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note : The staircase scene was inspired by [this fanart](http://upthehillart.tumblr.com/image/144955989354) by UpTheHill, because she's the best at breaking my heart.


	10. You just can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [CW : blood]

Draco was crossing the Ministry's hall, still hidden under Harry's invisibility cloak. It felt strange, coming back after the years he'd spent here trying to get the world to forget about him, walking to his small pen-pusher desk everyday with the urge to disappear. He laughed to himself thinking that he was finally able to move through that building without attracting any stare – that cloak would have been useful in his former life. He sneaked in a half-full elevator and discretely pushed the second floor button. However, there was no need for too many precautions : a few seconds later, no one noticed the door opening with no apparent reason at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's floor.

Draco rushed in the hallway he'd only ever visited on bad occasions ; he unconsciously picked up the pace when he passed the Auror Department, and started looking for the right door. _Hermione Granger-Weasley, Liaison Office – Department of Magical Law Enforcement & Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures_ : that was it. Only Granger could manage two positions at once, Draco thought ; back when he worked here, her name used to appear on an incredible amount of circulars and files, already. One could wonder how the whole fucking Ministry had held up during her maternity leave. He took off the cloak and knocked confidently two times.

Hermione opened the door and greeted him in a civil way before inviting him to sit at the single table in the middle of the room. It was already covered in a multitude of files, and Draco barely found an empty spot to put the folder he'd prepared himself.

“You brought documents ?” Granger said, surprised. “I already have a copy of your deposition from earlier this year and of the investigation file about...”

She didn't seem to know how to end that sentence.

“About my father's death,” Draco sighed. “Yes, I figured. But I did some research about the possible legal recourse, I took some notes.”

“And you didn't reckon I'd have everything we needed here, in terms of legislation ?” Granger asked, frowning.

Draco didn't have time to answer : there was another knock on the door, and Shae Hobbes appeared on the threshold, seemingly uncomfortable but with the determined look Draco had seen so many times whenever she was focusing on a tricky exercise.

“Miss Hobbes,” he greeted her. “Congratulations on your N.E.W.T.s grades. I was particularly impressed with your Charms exam.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she answered politely. “Now, I hope I'll find a career that allows me to put these skills to good use.”

“Have you considered...”

“Hum, hum,” Granger's voice interrupted them. “If you'll excuse me, we have an important task ahead of us.”

Draco shot his former student an annoyed look, but she seemed to drink in the Ministry employee's words and was already walking towards one of the plastic chairs.

It was true that they had a lot to do : the outright banishment of all the dementors was finally being studied, and they needed to find effective arguments to build the case against the creatures. Of course, Granger had already prepared everything, but the case needed to be represented by people that had been directly affected by the judged affairs. Harry had refused to take any part in this, but Draco had promised Shae he'd do everything in his power to help her – even if everything in his power was not much.

Hermione exposed her progress on the issue, explaining to her two inexperienced collaborators the key points of her argumentation and the remaining obstacles. Shae was taking notes as she spoke, and Draco realised for the first time that she reminded him of Granger : attentive, serious, and nonetheless formidable. As for him, he silently congratulated himself several times when he realised that he'd prepared the same legal strategies as the former Gryffindor. _Take that, employee of the month_. They then proceeded to discussing it all together, and he couldn't figure if his implication impressed Hermione or if it annoyed her : a few times, he caught her staring at him intensely, without a word, before she moved on to the next topic.

At the end of the day, they'd drawn the main plan of their argument, filed the various documents in consequence, and listed the remaining problems.

The biggest among them was the question of the dementors' relocation : Azkaban was their home, and they were – until proven otherwise – indestructible ; if the Ministry had successfully banished them from some parts of the prison a few years prior, there was apparently no way of completely expelling them without risking a rebellion from their part. They agreed on focusing on that thorny matter the next day and, at seven, Draco was able to leave for Grimmauld Place for his daily romantic dinner.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

The second day of work at the Ministry was even more exhausting :

“I spent the night thinking about it over and over,” Granger had said as soon as they'd arrived. “The only solution would be to move the prisoners, not the dementors.”

“What ?!” Draco had jumped.

“The dementors were born in Azkaban, they feed from the despair rooted in its very walls. If we drove them out, they would go and look for that despair amongst the living : we can't risk that. I think Azkaban's the only place where we can confine them.”

Draco'd tried to argue, but he'd quickly understood her logic and accepted – half-heartedly – that it was the only solution. As a result, they now had to find a new detention facility that could contain experienced criminals and dark wizards, along with a way to move all these people securely. Easy.

They went through a lot of files that listed the lands and buildings owned by the Ministry, and nothing seemed to do the trick : every time one of them thought they'd found a lead, the other one methodically rebutted it. Shae was left mediating every debate, torn between the Ministry's authority and her former professor's influence. Weirdly, Draco wasn't hating the endeavour : sure, the atmosphere was tense, but he found out he quite enjoyed these heated exchanges with the former Gryffindor. He liked to stimulate his intellect, and even if the renovation at 12, Grimmauld Place also requested method and hard thinking, he felt like he'd really found a challenge worthy of his attention with the Azkaban problem.

 

When Hermione left the room to look for additional material in the archives, Shae looked gravely at Draco :

“I didn't think you'd be able to come to the Ministry this easily.”

“Are you disappointed ?” Draco asked, a bit hurt by the remark. “You were the one who asked me to do something to help, weren't you ?”

“Yeah, of course, but... What with Aguamenti's latest attack and all, I thought that you'd stay safe.”

Draco frowned : besides from the Aurors and the members of the terrorist organisation, no one knew Harry and him had been attacked again since June.

“Is there something I need to know, miss Hobbes ?”

“What do you mean ?”

“You seem to be quite aware of Aguamenti's whereabouts. Do I need to worry ?”

“I'm not with them !” The young woman exclaimed, glowering at him. “How can you even think I'd do something like that ?! For your information, they offered. I said no.”

“ _They offered_ ?!” Draco repeated.

“After my mum was arrested, I received letters. Like, letters of support, saying that my family would be avenged, and that my mother's action would be perpetuated. I don't remember everything, but it was creepy.”

“And you didn't think you had to hand them over to the authorities ?” Draco asked, sceptical.

“I thought it was a lone weirdo, that it wouldn't go any further ! Then, after the May 2nd  attacks, I understood. But I thought it was too late, that I'd be accused of complicity if I only spoke then... And recently, I received a new one,” she added in a lower voice. “It said that they were close, but that they needed more soldiers to triumph. And it asked me to join them. That one, I sent to the Auror Department,” she added rapidly, trying to explain. “And they told me there'd been another attack. Given the details in the letter, it wasn't hard figuring out that you were the target...”

“Me and professor Potter,” Draco corrected. “He suffered a _Cruciatus Curse_ that night.”

He didn't know why he was giving her so much details. He was angry. He wanted her to understand the consequences of the organisation's actions. Shae looked at him, horrified :

“I didn't know...It's... I'm sorry,” she concluded, lowering her gaze.

Seeing his former student so worried, Draco's rage went down as quick as it'd risen :

“Don't be ridiculous, none of this is your fault. Let's try to focus on the matter at hand : Aguamenti is the Aurors' problem, there's nothing we can do about it.”

Draco took a mental note to go through their Department on his way out : Weasley had hidden the letter information from them, and he wanted to know if the withholding of information stopped there.

 

At the end of the day, he was surprised to hear Granger ask for his help to clean up the table : from what he'd witnessed up to this point, if she could do something by herself she didn't expect anyone's assistance.

“I heard you talk with Shae, earlier,” she dropped after a minute or so.

All right. There was the reason.

“So ? I heard you talk with Harry at his birthday party. If the game is _The conversation I wish I'd never overheard_ , I think I'm winning.”

Granger studied him in silence before she went on :

“In any case, Ron had a good reason not to mention the letters to Harry. He's afraid he's gonna go on a personal crusade against what's left of Aguamenti : he prefers to give him as little information as possible to keep him from putting himself at risk.”

“So, you want me to hide what Shae told me from him ?” Draco clarified.

Hermione blushed ; he wasn't used to seeing her look uncomfortable.

“I just want you to do what's the healthiest for him.”

“Investigation-wise ?” He asked. “Or are you trying to convince me too that I'm the worst thing that ever happened to Harry Potter ? Because, don't worry, I didn't wait for you to start wondering...”

“No,” Granger cut him off. “I'm only talking about the letters. Look, I'm not going to apologise for what I said the other night. But I _won't_ lose Harry's friendship. So, maybe we could call a truce ? What do you think ?”

“I want to know everything going on in the investigation,” Draco demanded.

“I don't know...” Hermione hesitated. “I need to talk to Ron about it : it's his job, that's for him to decide.”

“Fine. Then we'll talk about it tomorrow,” the former Slytherin decided, stepping closer to the door. “If I have to trust you I need it to go both ways, that's my terms. But, whatever you think of me, you must know that I'd never do anything that could put Harry in danger. It took me ten years to have him, I'm not letting anyone take him away from me now.”

On these words, he put on the cloak and exited the room, proud of the effect. When it came to style, he could never deny his Malfoy legacy.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“You can stop by the Auror Department tonight,” Hermione told him the following morning. Ron will give you the information you want – as long as you keep Harry out of this.”

“I can't tonight,” Draco refused.

He wondered what the former Gryffindors were playing at : it seemed unlikely that the redhead didn't share the secret of his lycanthropy with his wife ; yet, that night, the moon would be full. Hermione looked at him severely :

“You didn't tell Harry, right ?!”

“Of course not,” he sighed wearily. “I'll go see your ginger on my lunch break.”

“Everything's going well for now, do not start.,” Granger warned him.

Draco didn't want to be easygoing nor agreeable today. He could already feel the moon circulating in his veins and, after two weeks having dinner with Harry and four nights falling asleep against him, the prospect of spending a night alone at the Manor highly depressed him.

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so,” he said in a bored voice. “And, please, keep ignoring the fact that you speak to me like you would a gnome infesting your office...”

“What are you talking about ?” Hermione lost patience.

“You're accusing me of spoiling the mood, but you're the one putting up four layers of coldness between us every time you speak to me. You want to call a truce, but you're not ready to give me a chance. I don't have the time, nor the patience, to pretend everything's going well.”

The former Gryffindor stared at him for a while : she seemingly hadn't planned to move past the cold war stage.

“You're right,” she said eventually, throwing Draco off in turn. “Let's not pretend. But we're not thirteen anymore, I can't just punch you every time you cross the line...”

Draco winced : he still remembered the pain of the impact.

“... Even if I'd really like to,” she kept going. “So, let's try to behave like adults : you stop getting carried away at the slightest inconvenience, and I'll do my best to genuinely appreciate your help here.”

Draco was about to tell her off, but they heard three shy knocks on the door : Shae was here, and they had to put on their responsible adults suits for the moment indeed.

 

 

“What are you doing here ?!” Weasley wondered, looking up from his paperwork, four hours later.

“I was looking for the pest control department, the blueprints lead me here... What do you think ?”

The redhead frowned but didn't pick up on the snark :

“I thought you were stopping by tonight ?”

“Tonight I'll have too many teeth to sink in your arse if we end up disagreeing,” Draco hissed.

“What ?”

“Full Moon,” the Charms professor explained in a cold voice.

“Oh. I forgot about that,” Weasley answered, abashed.

“Lucky you,” Draco sighed.

He couldn't even remember a time when he didn't know the lunar calendar by heart – a wave of jealousy ran through him.

“All right, since you're here, take a sit,” the Auror yielded, broadly gathering his documents on a corner of his desk.

“That's so generous of you,” Draco mumbled, sitting across from him.

“So. What do you want to know ?”

“Everything. How would I know what you kept from us ?”

“Yeah. Right. Let's make it quick, shall we ? We identified every one of the Soho attackers, but you already know that. There were some surprises, but the good news is everyone we already suspected before that was there. We also know that Dawkins was leading the assault, and we have reasons to believe that he's at the head of Aguamenti. We identified his handwriting on the letter Shae Hobbes brought us. From what we gathered during the interviews, we're pretty sure he's the only member of Aguamenti still at large ; we have a few leads to find him, but nothing serious at this point. It seems like when he understood you wouldn't give us information on your comings and goings anymore he decided to track you, hence his surveillance of the club where you used to go pretty often. And... I think that's it,” Ron concluded.

“All right,” Draco answered. “That was a lot of information at once, but we knew pretty much everything already...”

“Of course you did. Harry's my best friend, I told you everything that wasn't classified. As for the letter, it's because he's... easily obsessed,” he said, grimacing. “I didn't want him to go find Shae, she doesn't need that. And I'm trying to keep him out of the investigation to prevent him from wasting his time, his sleep, and from putting his life in danger.”

Draco didn't answer : he was slowly realising just how much Harry's loved ones protected and guided him, and he better understood why the other man considered these people as family. It wasn't a family made of legacies and traditions like his own, but it certainly was a healthier one

“How's Harry, by the way ?” Weasley asked, confirming the silent reflection of his interlocutor.

“He's all right. He got it in his head to turn the room next to ou... to his bedroom into a bathroom. His first plumbing trials weren't conclusive, but it doesn't really seem to discourage him...”

For the first time since they'd started talking, Ron smiled :

“For someone who hadn't stepped foot in that house for almost ten years he sure looks eager to restore it.”

“Between this and preparing the fundraiser for his association I feel like he's mostly trying to keep his mind off things,” Draco criticised.

“You may be right,” Ron agreed, “he sure is tense with the whole Aguamenti thing. But considering the apathy he's shown in the last years I think it's a relatively healthy way of channelling himself. Do you want to eat something, by the way ?” He went on with a disconcerting lack of transition.

“Not hungry,” Draco simply said, scowling again : for a few minutes, he'd almost forgotten what day it was.

“Oh. Okay. Another time, then,” the redhead said, surprised, probably unable to acknowledge that lack of appetite was a physical possibility.

“I'll go back to work before your wife hits me with an unforgivable spell,” Draco sighed, getting up.

Weasley stared at him :

“I thought it was going well ?”

“Where'd you hear that ?”

“Where do you think ?” The weasel asked, looking jaded in his turn.

All right. Draco had to admit that the question was a bit stupid.

“If that's so, she's hiding it pretty well,” he stated. “It's like she lives for making me feel like a complete moron.”

“Nah, that's just one of her many talents,” Ron answered with a grin. “You get used to it, eventually.”

Draco answered with an annoyed wince as he left the office. On the way, he wondered if he just had a friendly conversation with Ron “The Weasel” Weasley, before deciding that his mind was extremely confused with the full moon approaching and that he was gravely mistaking.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

Harry stepped on stage and looked around to take in the assembly : dozens of pairs of eyes were looking up at him, patiently waiting for his speech, a few cameras were hoping to capture the picture that would make the cover on the following day but, most of all, undercover Aurors posted all around the room were on the look-out. And in the front row was standing Draco, handsome as ever in a clear robe with embroidered white patterns, a glass of champagne in his hand and an indecent glimmer in his eyes. Harry looked down at his notes to focus : he was here to talk in the name of his association, not to do a lecture on the many reasons why Draco Malfoy was the most attractive man in the country.

Harry had had trouble convincing him to come to The Light Switch's fundraiser, but he'd achieved his goal by taking advantage of the good mood caused by a particularly productive day of work at the Ministry. Hermione, Shae and Draco had progressed faster than originally planned, and they would be able to make their request to the Wizengamot the following week. With that work and the fundraiser planning both coming to an end, they would finally be able to spend some time together ; they already saw each other every night, but Harry couldn't wait for his partner to help him with the renovation : his plumbing trials were satisfying enough, but he didn't have Draco's eye for design. Plus, if he was being honest, Harry just liked feeling that the blond man was near him – even when he was in a bad mood and spent his time giving him shit

Ron had gone big for the protection of the evening : the identity of every guest had been checked, and only the Aurors and Harry's closest friends had been allowed to keep their wands with them. The redhead feared that Dawkins would attack them again, and he hoped he could finally catch him – Harry had agreed to all of his demands in the sole purpose of guaranteeing Draco's safety, but he wouldn't be sad seeing the former Auror behind bars.

The Chosen One cast a _Sonorus_ on his throat before addressing the crowd :

“Good evening. First of all, I'd like to thank all of you for being here tonight : you're the reason The Light Switch is able to continue helping so many children, and I'm so proud to witness what we've accomplished together. For seven years now, we've been doing everything in our power to find loving families for orphan wizards and witches, and to see some of these families here tonight fills my heart with joy : we have...”

A loud deflagration followed by the sound of shattering glass suddenly covered his voice. Panicked, he frantically searched for the origin of the chaos ; his heart stopped dead when he saw Draco staring at him with glassy eyes and trembling lips as a crimson spot was spreading on the light fabric that covered his chest. The former Slytherin spat a trickle of blood before collapsing next to his broken glass like a puppet whose strings would've been cut off. Behind his morbidly twitching body appeared Dennis Creevey, whom Harry had greeted twenty minutes prior. He was holding on to a smoking gun that was still aiming at the spot where Draco was standing a minute earlier and, ignoring the screams filling up the room as well as his own brain, Harry let his reflexes take over his mind :

“ _EXPELLIARMUS_ !” He shouted, aiming at the attacker.

“ _PROTEGO_ !” He heard Ron's voice bark to his right.

What was happening ?! His best friend couldn't possibly be protecting that scumbag ! He was going to wake up, none of this was really happening... A dark spot in his sight-line stopped him in his thoughts ; just in time, he saw a bullet crash in full flight, barely a few inches from his face, before falling on the floor with a clang. He turned to Ron, incredulous : he was the one targeted by his protective spell. Of course he was. He nodded a shaky thank you before turning back : his charm had still hit Dennis, who was drowned under a wave of Aurors as soon as he'd been disarmed. He heard him yell something about _the Aguamenti neutralising the embers_ , but his mind was somewhere else already.

A small group of guests had gathered around Draco and Hermione, who was trying to stem the bleeding with one hand whilst muttering healing spells. Harry jumped from the stage and rushed towards his partner.

“He lost consciousness,” Hermione stammered. “My spells don't work, the wound is too deep. We have to take him to the ER !”

Harry was staring at the pool of blood that had spread around his lover ; he was unable to think. _Come on, Draco, get up, it's such a stupid joke. Come on..._

“Harry !” His friend screamed. “Now !”

Snapping out of his stupor, the DADA professor grabbed Draco's awfully lifeless hand and made the three of them apparate at St Mungo's emergency room.

 

 

They arrived in complete turmoil : Harry saw a medical crew free Draco from his grip to take him away ; he heard Hermione talk to the emergency Mediwizards without understanding a word of what she was saying ; he felt arms hold him back to keep him from following the man he loved and refused to let go alone with strangers. His friend, still covered in blood, came to cup his face with both hands to force him to focus on her words :

“Harry ! Listen to me ! Harry ! It's too late, there's nothing you can do.”

He didn't know if Hermione's words brought him back to Earth or if it was the concern he could see was bringing tears to her eyes, but he stopped struggling, knocked out by the situation.

“There's nothing you can do...” She repeated calmly.

She gave the nurse that was shackling Harry a sign to let him know he could let go, and the professor staggered, unable to cope. Hermione supported him to the nearest wall, against which he let himself slide. He saw the blood that had soaked his robes' fabric around the knees. Draco had chosen that outfit. He mentally berated himself : why was he thinking about his clothes at a time like this ?! Hermione pointed her wand at him and started ridding them both of the scarlet stains that covered them.

“It's my fault,” Harry stammered.

“What's that ?” Hermione asked patiently, still cleaning them up.

“It's my fault. He didn't want to go... I forced him to go with me, and now...”

The end of the sentence got lost in a loud sob. His throat was too tight to let him speak.

“The only responsible is the one that was holding the gun,” Hermione contradicted him softly. “They'll keep us informed as soon as they've examined Draco,” she explained gently, putting away her wand and massaging Harry's shoulder. “I'll go let Ron know we're here and fill in the admission file. Do you need anything ?”

_For Draco to be alive_ , he wanted to answer. Instead, he just shook his head in silence.

“Wait,” he was able to articulate as she was walking away. “His mother... We have to let him mother know.”

His sorrow became all the more real as he pictured Narcissa barging in the hospital, looking imperious and accusing. Maybe she was going to hit him with an unforgivable for putting her son in danger. Maybe he was going to die for real, this time. At least, he'd be with Draco... _No !_ He stopped himself. _Draco's not dead. Draco's going to get up. He did after the_ Sectum Sempra, _he'll do it once again_. He was perfectly aware that he was trying to convince himself, but he couldn't stand having caused the death of the man he loved.

 

 

He didn't know how long he'd remained there, sitting on the floor, waiting : it could have been three minutes as well as thirty, he was completely lost in time. Hermione'd come back next to him, and it's her who got up to meet Narcissa Malfoy when the woman stormed in St Mungo's hallway. She tried to answer calmly to her shouts, and kept her from coming to Harry and shake information out of him :

“He's in shock,” he heard her explain.

But Harry didn't care about her explanation : a healer was heading towards them.

“Good evening. Malfoy family ?” He asked the small assembly.

“Is he okay ?” Harry rushed.

“I am his mother,” Narcissa stated more composedly.

“Follow me,” the healer asked her. “I'll see you in my office.”

Upon noticing Harry was following them as well, he stopped :

“I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but I can only share information with immediate family.”

“Try and stop me,” Harry said angrily, taking his wand out.

A few caregivers stepped closer, ready to restrain him again, but Narcissa spoke to the healer :

“He is my son in law, which, correct me if I am wrong, makes him immediate family. Let us not lose any more time, shall we ?”

The man nodded, and Harry shot a grateful look at Draco's mother before following them into the healer's office.

“First,” the latter started once they'd settled, “you have to understand that this is unknown territory for us : we usually don't deal with muggle injuries.”

Narcissa grimaced ; Harry could imagine the supreme indignity that it was for a Pure-Blood, being injured by a muggle weapon.

“Mr Malfoy's condition is critical,” the man went on. “He'd lost a lot of blood when you arrived. And, worst, his right lung has been punctured.”

Harry felt his blood freeze again ; he had to focus to hear what the healer was saying :

“We did everything in our power, but we're currently unable to assure you that he'll live. He's been placed in a magically induced coma in order to avoid too much suffering while the reconstructive potions are at work. However, it's the first time we've been faced with such an injury : we don't know if the treatment will take effect, nor how long it could take. In theory, he should wake up as soon as the tissue has reconstructed entirely, but we can't say if it will take a few hours, a few days, or even if it will ever occur.”

He gave a few minutes to Harry and Narcissa to process everything he'd just said.

“Can we see him ?” the woman eventually asked.

“You can,” the healer agreed. “But only you. The two of you,” he specified when he noticed Harry's upset glare. “We received direct orders from the Head of the Auror Department : the access to this patient's room has to be strictly regulated. An Auror will take place outside his door starting tonight.”

Harry nodded : Ron had been responsive. They got up, and the healer took them to the small room in which was sitting a single bed – probably because of the security instructions, Harry thought.

Draco was lying under the sheets ; a kind of transparent bubble was covering his mouth and nose – to provide oxygen, the healer explained. He was even whiter than usual, and a tube was coming out of the bandage wrapped around his chest. Narcissa stifled a whimper when she saw him, and Harry's heart ached even more as he'd never seen her express the slightest emotion. The tears that were held back by shock up to this point broke free ; Harry let them fall, sitting down in one of the chairs while Narcissa was taking her son's hand and caressing his face. _It's useless_ , he thought, _he's not waking up_... He immediately wiped those thoughts from his head and focused on his boyfriend's peaceful face and on his chest that was going up and down at a regular rhythm. _He lives_ , he thought. _It's all that matters_.

 

 

Ron entered the room about an hour later ; he looked drawn and had put on his Head Auror outfit. He shot a quick look at the patient before announcing :

“Mrs Malfoy. Auror Dwayne has taken place outside this room to control access to it. You'll be the only two visitors allowed here, and the medical staff will be verified at each passage. We're doing everything in our power to guarantee Mal... your son's security.”

“It seems a bit late for that, don't you think ?” Narcissa retorted dryly.

“Madam,” Ron answered with a professional tone, even though he was blushing, “I'd like to express our deepest regrets, but the security at the event happened to be thoroughly planned. Nothing could have foretold the use of a muggle weapon, and we had every other possibility covered. We now added this risk to the list of possible hazards, and the perpetrator is in one of our cells as we speak. The guard rotation outside the room will happen every four hours ; you will agree on a password with the Auror present when you're leaving to assure them of your identity when you come back. That password will be transmitted from guard to guard and will change at each passage. Do you have any question ?”

Not getting any answer, Ron turned to his best friend :

“Harry ? I'd like a word in private, if you will follow me...”

Harry didn't want to go out of the room. He didn't want to get away from Draco. Mrs Malfoy might have sensed his desperation, since she intervened :

“You needn't bother : I was leaving. Now that I know the room is under surveillance, I can go more serenely. I will be back in the morning,” she added for the benefit of Harry.

He nodded ; he still didn't feel like talking. Narcissa left the room, and Ron went on more softly :

“Will he be okay ? What did the healers say ?”

Harry looked up at him :

“He has a punctured lung,” he announced. “They don't know if he's going to make it,” he added in a small voice.

“Crap,” Ron simply answered, leaning towards him to hold him awkwardly. “I'm so sorry, Harry.”

The latter let his head fall on his friend's shoulder before he asked :

“Did you question Dennis ?”

Ron straightened back :

“Of course. We didn't get much out of him. We have no proof he's been in touch with Dawkins or any other member of Aguamenti. He was having the same kind of speech, but we don't even know if he's really part of it or if he's just been influenced by their arguments. He seems traumatised by his brother's death, and we know that Aguamenti uses these narratives.”

“Draco didn't even take part in the battle of Hogwarts,” Harry pleaded, watching his partner's face like he was about to wake up and argue with them at any moment.

“I know. He was too busy trying to deliver you to You-Know-Who,” Ron winced.

“That's not funny,” Harry got angry. “And Voldemort's been dead for eight years, you can say his name you know...”

He'd only added that to annoy his friend, and he was filled with a petty feeling of satisfaction when Ron shivered – he had it coming.

“Yeah, yeah, all right... Do you want to sleep at our place tonight ?” The other man asked to change the subject. “I know you've got your house now, but if you don't feel like being alone...”

“I'll stay here,” Harry cut him off.

“Are you sure ?” Ron worried.

Harry took Draco's cold hand in his own :

“I don't want him to be alone if he wakes up... And...” he hesitated, “I don't want him to be alone if he doesn't,” he added in a hushed voice.

“Harry,” Ron whispered sadly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

But he knew nothing that he could say would make his friend feel better. After a few minutes, he walked away :

“If you need anything you know where to find us,” he said, opening the door. “Hermione's worried about you, try to keep us updated...”

Harry nodded. As soon as the door was closed, he dragged his chair closer to the bed and pressed Draco's fingers against his lips :

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I'm so, so, sorry, Draco...”

Loneliness and silence were unbearable ; he remained there, prostrate against the hospital bed for a while, trying in vain to warm up his lover's hand between his own, before resigning himself to properly settling in his chair for the night.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Harry woke up with the daylight, body cramping up all over and glasses crooked. He opened his eyes to find Narcissa staring at him from the other side of the bed :

“Don't tell me you did not even think about transfiguring your chair in a lying position,” she said disdainfully.

“I didn't think I'd fall asleep this quickly,” Harry growled, stretching. _Lovely awakening_ , he thought.

“You are an embarrassment for the wizarding community,” Narcissa retorted, handing him a steaming cup.

Harry could smell fresh coffee and decided to not dwell on the insult :

“You knew I'd be here ?”

“Of course,” she answered without further explanation.

They sipped their coffees in silence for a while, watching the soothing rhythm of Draco's respiration.

“Did you know Draco was born prematurely ?” Narcissa asked eventually without looking away from her son.

“I didn't,” Harry answered softly, feeling that she was trying to say something to him.

“More than two months early,” she went on. “He was so tiny... So fragile... I immediately knew that I would dedicate my life to protecting him.”

She made a pause, and Harry silently studied her : her elegant appearance failed to hide the bags under her eyes. Had she even slept ?

“His lungs didn't function properly,” she kept going. “He was connected to a system similar to this one for weeks. I refused to leave his side : how could he have survived without his mother next to him ? But Lucius didn't understand. Lucius never understood my relationship with Draco. He was making his way up at the Ministry, so of course he had to show himself at every meeting, every official gathering, every event... And, of course, going to one of these without his wife on his arm would have presented a bad image. I hated him a bit more each time he made me leave the nursery to accompany him.”

Her tone was bitter, now, and Harry wondered if he was really the right person to receive that confession.

“Do not be mistaken,” Narcissa corrected, looking up at him for the first time since she'd started talking, “I loved my husband. But I loved Draco even more. I was all that this child had ; nothing can surpass the feeling of being indispensable to someone. When Draco grew up, Lucius provided him with the best education, he passed his values and ideas on to him, but I was the one making sure he never lacked for anything. He had always come to find me whenever something was bothering him. It was me he ran to whenever he got hurt. I was his protector, and he knew it.”

She gently stroked Draco's cheek, and Harry looked away with shame. He was starting to understand that she was accusing him of risking her son's safety.

“I protected him way more than he could ever imagine,” she said. “I knew he loved men before he even realised it himself.”

“How ?” Harry asked shyly.

He'd often wondered if his own loved ones had guessed he was bisexual before he'd announced it to them. Ron, of course, had turned bright red and stuttered for three days, but Hermione or Luna, for example, had welcomed the news with too much serenity to not have seen it coming.

“Every time he came back from Hogwarts we never heard the end of it,” Narcissa explained in a bored voice : “ _Potter did this, Potter did that, Father, do you know what Potter said ?_ ... Everyone confused it for a healthy rivalry, but I could see myself in him, filling up pages and pages of journals to describe Lucius's every move in school... Draco had a lot of people fooled, starting with himself, but he couldn't fool me. Had his father known about this, he wouldn't even have thought twice before throwing him out. So, I did my best to hide this from him. I made Draco understand that it was an an aspect of his personality he had to keep secret. I believe he didn't realise until much later that I knew about it, but he'd learned not to share his feelings. Not even with me. For the first time, I felt like I was letting him down, but it was the price I had to pay to keep him safe. Then, I had a chance to let him down way more,” Narcissa sighed. “I've made a lot of mistakes in my life,” she said, staring at Harry, “but letting the Dark Lord get hold of my son remains the one that will haunt me to the grave.”

She took Draco's hand, as if to muster up the courage to keep going :

“Of course, you already know how much I failed him at that time. Draco told himself it was his turn to protect me. He was so miserable...” She said painfully. “When, at the end of this nightmare, he decided to turn against his father, to make him face his mistakes, I didn't hesitate for one second before taking his side. Because it was my place, and because Lucius had been the first one to forsake him. I've lost my husband the second that war was over ; the man we buried a few months ago didn't have a family anymore.”

She was saying all these things in a cold voice, but the suffering Harry could read in her eyes was telling a different story. He wondered how Draco would react if he heard his mother say all of this. He stroked his arm gently, with the stupid idea in mind that he could in fact hear and feel them. Narcissa watched him do so before speaking again :

“The fact is, I've been protecting him. Since his first breath. As best as I could. But that never made him happy.”

She grabbed The Daily Prophet that was at her feet to throw it to Harry. On the front page was a sickening picture of Draco, lying on the ground in a pool of blood. The former Gryffindor's stomach twitched :

“How dare they...” He roared.

“Open it on page six,” Mrs Malfoy commanded.

The two page article was displaying a lot of pictures of the fundraiser before it took a turn for the worst. One of them particularly caught Harry's attention : he was chatting with Draco, who was helping him button his collar properly, smiling. Not his usual smirk, but another smile Harry now knew very well. It was the smile he had when he watched him cook dinner at Grimmauld Place, or when they were bickering about something silly like Quidditch and Draco knew he was right ; it was the smile he had when they'd just...

“ _You_ make him happy,” Narcissa stated, interrupting his train of thoughts. “I am not going to lie to you, I resent you for putting him in danger. But you're giving him something I never could.”

Harry ran his fingers on the picture – Merlin, did he miss the awake and happy Draco :

“I'm sorry,” he said piteously. “I thought I was protecting him too...”

“Don't you ever listen ?” Narcissa criticised. “I don't need your excuses. And maybe it's not your protection Draco needs after all.”

She was staring at the faded Dark Mark on her son's arm. The scars crossing it were all white, now : he hadn't cut himself in weeks. Of course, it wasn't to Harry's credit : all he had done was create a safe space for them at Grimmauld Place, sheltered from the mail carrying its share of hatred and guilt. If Draco had been able to get out of his own head for a bit, it was because he'd focused on many projects and was allowed to forget about his own problems as well as about his detractors. Draco was getting better, and Harry found it particularly unfair that he'd been attacked just when he was finally giving himself some peace.

“But, for Salazar's sake,” Narcissa went on, “would you please go shower ? I know you wish to remain at his side, but I strongly suspect that he refuses to come out of his coma just to avoid dealing with your body odour.”

Harry hesitated for a bit, but the disgusted pout on his interlocutor's face finished convincing him.

“I'll be back shortly,” he indicated when he got up.

“I am sure you will,” Narcissa answered in a cold voice, watching him leave.

 

 

Draco didn't wake up while he was gone.

Nor the following day.

Nor the day after that.

All week long Harry followed the same ritual : he fell asleep in the chair next to Draco, was woken by Narcissa – and her coffee – and chatted with her for a bit. She told him stories about her son, childhood anecdotes that the blond man probably wouldn't approve of if he was awake, and Harry told her what he'd put him through back in school. He didn't hold a grudge against teenager Draco anymore : he understood a little better now what'd turned him into an evil little bully and, if he didn't excuse everything, he was able to gain perspective on a lot of things. He often laughed listening to Narcissa's stories, and every time he imagined Draco waking up in a fury to command them to stop. Maybe that was why they kept doing it day after day.

At noon, Harry left to change clothes and reassure his friends of his sanity. Ron mostly told him the investigation wasn't progressing in spite of the multiplying attacks, Hermione looked at him with pity, and Ginny and Neville talked awkwardly about Quidditch or any other matter that wasn't his comatose boyfriend. Andromeda'd asked him to go see Teddy to reassure him about Draco's state, but Harry was unable to lie to his godson – he'd just sent him a vaguely optimistic letter. Even on paper he sounded disingenuous.

 

 

The healers were coming and going in the hospital room, and none of them seemed to agree with his colleagues on a diagnosis. After a week, the first healer they'd seen called Narcissa and Harry in his office :

“At this stage, there's nothing we can do,” he announced. “From what we observed, the tissue has healed, there's no infection, Mr Malfoy can even breathe without the oxygen bubble's help... Yet, he doesn't wake up. It's a complete mystery to all of us.”

“But...” Harry tried. “Didn't you tell us that you put him in a coma yourselves ? You should be able to wake him, now.”

“That's now how this works, Mr Potter,” the healer disagreed. “That kind of sleeping spell stops on its own when the patient has healed. It's the first time I've faced this situation in my entire career. We tried to break the spell, unsuccessfully. The only explanation is that he's hurt on a level we haven't discovered yet. We ran every possible test, but we can't find anything. We have to wait, but the chances that he'll wake up now are extremely thin.”

“What are the probabilities ?” Narcissa asked in a quavering voice.

“Infinitesimal,” the healer stated. “I'd suggest you prepare for the worst.”

Harry thought cynically that death wouldn't be the worst. Not knowing was the worst. Waiting day and night for Draco to wake up without knowing if he was ever going to was the worst. Having this shred of hope that would always keep him from moving on was the worst.

 

 

Narcissa, groggy, went home to the Manor. Harry automatically went back to Draco's room. Without thinking, he enlarged the bed with a movement of his wand and lay down next to his lover for the first time in a week. Stripped of the oxygen bubble and the bandage, he just appeared to be asleep ; only the little circle of red wrinkled skin on his torso reminded Harry how serious his condition was.

“You can't do this,” he whispered against his desperately still cheek. “You can't leave me alone... You just can't... Come on, wake up, and we'll run away from this place. Away from trouble. Somewhere no one will know us. We could go live on a desert island, next to a paradise beach...”

He imagined the former Slytherin's diaphanous skin under the tropical sun... No, that didn't feel right.

“... Or in a cabin lost in the mountains...”

Yes : Draco curled up in blankets with a cup of hot cocoa in front of a cosy fireplace, that was more like it.

“... Fuck, do you realise that I don't even know if you like the sea or the mountain better ?! But it's okay, all that matters is that you come back, and I'll follow you. I won't have much of a choice anyway,” he added with a sad laugh : “you always have the last word, you're impossible to bargain with... I miss you,” he sighed painfully.

He laid a kiss on the white temple, and for half a second he had the insane hope to see Draco wake up like in the fairytales. But Grimm, Perrault and the rest of them were filthy liars, and the grey eyes remained cruelly closed. Harry cursed Disney for seven generations and promised himself never to show any of his movies to Teddy – granting he ever left this room.

 

 

“Mr Potter ?” Someone called gently, shaking him by the shoulder. “I'm not sure this is recommended for the patient.

Harry opened an eye and made out Draco's face close to his own. The nurse handed him his glasses before going on :

“I must ask you to get out of the bed : I need to feed Mr Malfoy.”

Harry did as he was asked, and he watched as the young woman was levitating a thick liquid towards Draco's mouth.

“What's that ?” He asked.

“High-calorie concentrate,” she explained patiently. “It's the substitution meal we give to patients who can't eat on their own. I usually manage to feed him without waking you up,” she said apologetically.

Even if Draco was not obsessed with thinness, Harry was pretty sure he'd never have knowingly swallowed something called _high-calorie concentrate_. He watched the nurse without a word.

“It's so sad, his situation,” she said to fill the heavy silence. “To be healed, but not really. It's like he was continuously being attacked from the inside, where we can't see what's happening.”

Harry's senses got on alert, but his tired neurones needed some time to connect the right ideas.

“Wait,” he said, trying to hold on to the versatile thoughts that were crossing his mind. “Your concentrate thing, where does it come from ?”

“The hospital's kitchens,” the nurse answered, raising her eyebrows. “Why do you ask ?”

“What if someone had been poisoning it to maintain Draco in that state ?” He exclaimed.

The nurse clearly looked worried for him, now :

“Mr Potter, that's impossible... We take the concentrate directly from the cauldron you can see over here. And we use it for every patient. Mr Malfoy is the only one to show that kind of symptoms...”

Harry could hear her, but he wasn't really listening anymore : he'd started pacing in the room.

All right, it wasn't the food. It couldn't come from anywhere else : Draco wasn't given any medicine anymore, and he was guarded day and night. _Think_ , he ordered himself. He had to see Ron. Now. They'd missed something, they must have. He looked at the time – ten past six – and decided to walk out to apparate directly at his best friend's.

 

 

“Harry ?!” Ron said, surprised, when he opened the door. “What are you doing here ? Did something happen ? Why didn't you use your key ?”

Harry stepped in the small living room without answering a single question :

“I need to speak with Dennis,” he announced, dead serious.

“What ?” the redhead jumped, rubbing his eyes – he was taking his shift in less than an hour, but he was still in his pyjamas.

“Dennis Creevey,” Harry specified uselessly. “I need to interrogate him. We missed something.”

“Did you snort Pixie Dust ? Do you really think we're going to let a civilian interrogate a criminal ? Sit down. Explain it to me.”

“It wasn't just the gunshot wound,” Harry said desperately. “Draco's not healing, there had to be something else.”

“Harry,” Ron cut him off sadly.

“No,” he insisted. “Listen to me. I don't know how, but he poisoned him. With a poison that can't be detected, and that remains in the blood, and that...”

“Harry,” Ron repeated, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Listen to yourself...”

The DADA professor knew he sounded ridiculous, but he had to be right. If he wasn't, he'd never get Draco back. And it would be his fault. _No_ , he couldn't afford being wrong.

“Please,” he begged in a small voice. “Interrogate Dennis, analyse the gun, search his place... But please help me find something... There has to be something,” he added to convince himself.

Ron shot him a concerned look :

“All right, Harry. I'll do it. But, in the meantime, go have some sleep in the guest room, will you ? I'll wake you up as soon as I find something.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry 💔


	11. Arsehole

 

His chest had just exploded. He could see Harry, a few meters away : he had to warn him, to let him know something was wrong. But there was no air : he was suffocating, and he was unable to produce the slightest sound. He was taking deeper, longer breaths, but nothing worked : his lungs were burning, and he was still stuck in that hellish second before the void.

Suddenly, everything changed : he felt fresh air finally rushing into his bronchi. He inhaled deeply, and he heard the sound of his own voice, hoarse and exhausted :

“Harry !”

He didn't hear what the voices around him were saying : before he could open his eyes, he was drawn in a suffocating embrace. He recognised Harry's smell before he even heard his voice :

“I'm right here,” the man whispered in his hair. “Merlin, I thought you'd never come back...”

Draco did his best to gently push back his partner ; his arms were stiff and didn't completely obey him. He saw Harry's face at last : he looked worn out. His skin was dull, he wasn't shaved, but his eyes were the part that worried Draco the most : they were ringed, and the blond man couldn't stand seeing so much gravitas in them :

“You really look like shit, Potter,” he dropped with a husky but amused voice.

“I missed you, arsehole,” Harry laughed, hugging him tight again.

An outraged gasp lead Draco to look to his left, and only then did he realise that they were in a hospital room. And, most of all, that they weren't alone. His mother was sitting there and... _was she crying ?_ Draco rapidly thought about it, but he couldn't remember ever seeing his mother cry. She hadn't cried when Voldemort had made their lives a living hell. She hadn't cried when she'd learnt about Lucius's death, a few months before...

“Would anyone care to explain to me what's happening ?!” He lost patience.

“I'll answer all your questions later,” Harry said, stroking his cheek, “but for now I really think you should see a Healer... I'll be right back,” he concluded as he was standing up, before Draco had time to protest.

 

The blond man was not sure he wanted to face his mother's tears, but he figured it would be even more awkward to avoid looking at her now that they were alone. Nevertheless, except from the puffiness of her eyes, Narcissa's face was back to being completely inscrutable.

“I'm glad to see you back among us,” she simply said.

Then, she told him everything – calmly, methodically : the attack during the fundraiser, the punctured lung, the coma that was going on forever –  _ ten days _ , Draco couldn't believe it. And, in the end, Harry's relentlessness that had paid off once more, when it drove the investigators to discover that the bullets had been smeared with Widow's Tears, a poison that was undetectable in the blood and that kept hurting Draco under the healers' noses. She also told him how pessimistic they were, the day before, when they'd given him the antidote.

Like a response to this account, the door opened on a incredulous medical team that submitted him to a whole lot of questions and tests. Draco just had time to catch sight of Harry, who was slumped against the hallway wall, when his mother left the room to let them do their job.

From what Narcissa had just told him, his boyfriend just had a rough couple of weeks. The biggest part of Draco – the one that had hoped so many times to see Harry caring about him like he did for his friends – was flattered by the attention, but a kind of unfamiliar culpability was also taking over him, little by little : Harry had all but stopped living out of worry for him. For the first time ever, Draco felt like his own life had a direct impact on somebody else's. On somebody he lived. And he admired. He loved that Harry was all his, but the responsibility scared him ; so, even exhausted, afraid and full of questions, Draco was determined to play down the situation – for his partner's sake as well as for his own.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“The book on the ground there, is it yours ?” Harry asked as he was trying to tidy up the impressive mess his boyfriend had managed to make in only three days.

“No, throw it out,” Draco ordered.

“Looks like it's already been done,” the other man grumbled, emerging at the foot of the bed. “What did the book do to you exactly ?”

“Are you kidding ? I asked a nurse for something to read and that blockhead brought me The Da Vinci Code. _Me_. Seriously, do I look like I read this kind of crap ?”

Harry stared at him, looking like he didn't see what was the problem. _ Illiterate Gryffindor _ , Draco thought.  _ You're lucky you're so good-looking _ .

“And I'm sure you politely thanked her anyway and waited for her to go out to put the book away,” the illiterate Gryffindor in question speculated.

“No, I threw it on the floor and recommended she educated herself,” the Charms professor answered matter-of-factly.

“Draco !” Harry berated him. “You can't treat people like that ! No wonder the staff can't wait for you to leave.”

“Did they say that ?!” Draco said, offended, looking up from the slice of cheesecake he'd _strongly advised_ Harry to bring him in the morning.

“I heard some caregivers chatting this morning. Apparently, you were _way more likeable when you were in a coma_. I can't really argue with that...”

“Arsehole.”

“Yesterday you called me all kind of names because I'd shaved... After you'd spent the previous day telling me I looked like shit...”

“It's not my fault your shitty face didn't come from the hairiness,” Draco defended himself. _And if I really wanted to know what that beard would feel like between my thighs_ , he added in his head.

“You do realise that you got on the Mediwizards' nerves so much that they're letting you out after three days of rehabilitation only, instead of the week that was planned, right ?”

“It's just so I can go back to Hogwarts in time,” Draco contradicted him.

“Meh... You know Minerva already asked Flitwick to come back as a substitute.”

“There's no need. I'll be ready on Monday.”

“You know,” Harry said more softly, “you're allowed to take some time to recover before you go back to work.”

“We already discussed this,” Draco lost patience. “I don't need to spend time at Grimmauld Place nor at the Manor, I don't want to go to the beach – seriously, where was that coming from ? - nor in the mountains, I want to go back to my life at Hogwarts !”

“All right,” Harry let go, still displaying that concerned look that pissed Draco off. “I brought you some mail, by the way.”

“Mail ?” Draco repeated, suspicious, while eyeing the stack of letters Harry was taking out of his bag.

“Letters you received after the attack.”

“So... Some people wrote to me when I was in a coma ? It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Do they even know what coma means ?”

“Stop it, some of them come from students. I think it was sweet of them to worry about you.”

Draco frowned, putting his plate down on the bedside cabinet :

“Did you read them ?”

“Ron,” Harry rectified, lowering his gaze. “Well, the Aurors. They checked everything that came for you to be sure there was nothing dangerous. It's part of the security measures they put in place.”

The former Slytherin did his best to overlook the fact that the Weasel had been reading all his mail for two weeks :

“So ? How many hexed packages ?”

“None,” Harry reassured him. "But they kept a few threatening letters and stuff like that.”

Draco quickly realised that “stuff like that” was probably people wishing him to never wake up. The safe space that was his hospital room was salutary, but it was also illusory : as soon as he'd go out, he would be crushed under the weight of the real world again. His stomach turned at this thought.

“Come on, give me the letters,” he commanded to try to mask the bitterness that was rising.

“Since you asked so nicely...” Harry joked, throwing the stack on his knees.

Draco started reading, and he kind of regretted that Harry stayed in the room : some letters were pretty moving, and he was having trouble hiding just how much he was touched.

Shae Hobbes was thanking him for what he'd done for her and her mother – Azkaban and the dementors were going to be discontinued, and Granger had offered her an internship at the Ministry starting September to help her get a new incarceration solution in place.

Another student was explaining that he'd found the courage to come out to his family thanks to the example set by his two professors.

The letters he'd received when he was still in a coma were particularly difficult to face : he could feel the anger and sadness of some students at the fact that one of their own had been so cowardly attacked. He was focusing on keeping a stone face, but soon he heard sniffling on his right.

“Are you crying, Potter ?!”

“Oh, shut up ! Have you read the Mills girl's letter ?!”

“Yeah... It was sweet,” he admitted.

“Stop pretending, Malfoy, your lip's been quivering for five whole minutes,” Harry teased, nudging him gently.

Draco was about to blow him off, but he heard three sharp knocks on the door.

 

“What are you doing still in bed ?!” Narcissa berated him as soon as she'd set foot in the room. “The healers said you were going home today !”

“It's ten in the morning,” Draco simply answered, going back to reading his mail.

“I looked through your dressing room,” Narcissa went on, “but I did not find any decent outfit to bring you in lieu of that hideous hospital robe. I suppose the entirety of your wardrobe is now in Mr Potter's closet... I don't remember being warned that you had moved out.”

“That's probably because I haven't moved out,” Draco retorted calmly.

“When was the last time you slept at the Manor ?” His mother asked, staring at him like she did whenever she was trying to get him to confess something as a child.

“At the last full moon,” he answered immediately with a victorious grin.

“So, when was the last time you _willingly_ slept there ?” Narcissa kept going. “Let us not make a fuss, I simply wish you had informed me of your decision to live together.”

“But we're not !” Draco persisted with a dash of dishonesty.

“All right, then what are you planning to wear to get out of here ?”

“Erm...” Harry intervened, looking at him with apologetic eyes. “I put some clothes you'd left at Grimmauld Place in my bag.”

“Great,” Narcissa answered triumphantly. “I will go have a cup of coffee to give you time to change into a proper outfit.”

As soon as she'd exited the room, Draco shot Harry a murderous glare :

“Really ?! _I put some clothes in my bag_ ,” he echoed in an impression that he knew was really bad.

“What ?” Harry replied, frowning. “What was your plan anyway ? Getting out of here butt-naked just to contradict your mother ?”

“I would have figured something out,” the former Slytherin grumbled, pretending to go back to reading.

He hated it when Harry was right.

“Draco ?” Harry said, handing him his clothes. “Can I ask you a question ?”

“Another question, you mean ?” The Charms professor remarked with just the right amount of smugness.

“Yes,” Harry sighed.

“Go ahead.”

“How does it not make you mad to realise that we've been living together for weeks ?”

“Should it ?” Draco asked.

He didn't even try to deny it : he'd brought his stuff in the Blacks' house little by little, was sleeping there every night, and Harry was cooking him breakfast and dinner every day. Even with a lot of dishonesty it was a losing battle.

“No, that's a good thing,” Harry answered, “but... A few months ago, you almost stopped everything because it was getting too serious... And it was only because you'd met my godson. I assumed that kind of steps would be a little complicated to process, I guess.”

Draco decided to be direct – just the once wouldn't hurt :

“I don't know if you noticed, but I almost died recently.”

Harry glowered at him – it was obviously too soon to joke about it.

“It helps putting things into perspective a bit,” Draco explained. “Living with you may not be as big of a deal as kicking the bucket. Well, I guess.”

“I mean, it can get ugly if you bring back that crappy mood with you,” Harry retorted with a smirk. “Then I may make you regret the coma pretty quickly...”

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

“You're still not done painting the hallway ?” Draco complained as soon as they'd crossed the 12, Grimmauld place's threshold.

Harry sighed heavily :

“Excuse me, Your Highness, I've been kind of busy looking after my dying boyfriend, lately. And what did we say about your mood again ?”

“ _We_ didn't say anything,” Draco pointed out. “On the other hand,” he added, leaning towards his ear, “if you keep speaking to me like I'm royalty I'll find a way to make it up to you pretty soon.”

The hot breath on his neck was making Harry melt, but his brains took the upper hand fast enough ; he turned to face Draco :

“You heard the Healers : you need to take it easy, your body hasn't completely got over the poison yet.”

“Screw the Healers.”

“You made that pretty clear,” Harry answered, failing to contain a laugh. “But even if they were eager to see you go I think the advice was wise.”

“Were _you_ eager ?” the former Slytherin asked suddenly.

Harry wasn't sure he understood the question, and the dangerous glow he saw in the grey eyes wasn't really reassuring :

“To what ?”

“To have me back home,” Draco specified, pressing his body against Harry's.

“Of course I was ! You may be a pain in the arse since you woke up, but you can't begin to imagine how much I missed you.”

“Then prove it,” the blond man whispered, pinning him against the wall.

Hypnotised by his lover's lips a few inches from his own, Harry dropped the bag he was carrying to grab the face he'd thought he'd never be able to kiss ever again with both hands.

They shared a long kiss, and Harry couldn't help but repeatedly seizing Draco's lower lip between his teeth to feel his flesh, fill with his taste, as if to make sure he was real. He was revelling in Draco's tongue against his, his hands on his stomach's skin, his hair under his fingers... Finally, he was home.

“The last one in the bedroom will have to put up with the other one's moods !” Draco announced out of nowhere, pulling himself from the embrace.

By the time Harry understood what'd just happened, Draco was already halfway through the first flight of stairs. The other man rushed after him, but apparently three days of intensive physical therapy had been enough to give Draco's leg muscles their tone back. When Harry entered the room, out of breath after climbing three floors running, Draco was already unbuttoning his own robes with a mocking look :

“Well, Potter ? Getting old ?”

“We're the same age, arsehole,” Harry panted.

“And I obviously aged better,” Draco scoffed with that smirk that made Harry both want to punch him and undress him to fuck him right there, right then.

But the blond man had been quicker on that matter, too : by the time Harry'd finished his sentence, he'd gotten rid of all of his clothes.

Harry got stuck for a minute looking at that body that was so familiar to him, and yet seemed to be far tonight, almost unknown. That body that was gradually being covered in scars, marks, slowly drawing a map of Draco's journey on his very skin.

On his calf, Harry could now make out Greyback's bite marks concealed under a few blond hairs. The stretch marks on his thighs, his hips, his upper arms, were a testimony of the violent changes his body was going through every month because of that bite. His abdomen still wore the scars of the  _ Sectum Sempra _ that the Harry who thought of him as an enemy had inflicted on him. On his left forearm, the scars he'd cut himself to try to forget about that period made the former Gryffindor see just how much he'd been wrong about him.

And now, a new round scar on his ribs reminded them that despite his efforts, some people would never be able to see past his mistakes. But it also showed that Draco had come back from death ; Harry and him had never been more alike. Harry was bearing his scar on his forehead : no matter what he did, it would always be shown to the world. Draco was hiding his own under luxurious clothes – and a thick layer of sarcasm – but it didn't make him any less flayed once he was naked.

“What are you waiting for ?” Draco asked, suspicious.

Harry realised that he'd been admiring him in silence for about a minute, maybe more.

“You're beautiful,” he simply answered.

“Did it take you this long to realise it ?!” Draco said, outraged, stepping closer to him.

He kissed him gently, and Harry leaned in the embrace once more : he'd missed him too much to allow his brain to keep control. The blond man started undressing him, and his concern woke up a bit :

“Draco, we really shouldn't...”

“Potter,” the blond man answered, fiddling with his fly, “if I'm healthy enough to feel my heart beat in my cock, I think I'm healthy enough to fix it... If you want to take care of me, the best you can do is give me a hand... You're not going to let me exert myself like that, are you ?!”

“Now, when you put it that way...” Harry said, laughing.

He finished undressing and moved a little closer to Draco to slowly kiss his neck, his chin, his lips, and about every part of his body he could reach. He felt Draco smile against his mouth :

“You always do that,” the former Slytherin whispered.

“What ?”

“Putting your toes on top of mine when you kiss me.”

Harry looked at his feet : he didn't remember putting them there.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping back. “I didn't realise.”

“No,” Draco answered, grabbing his waist to pull him back : “I missed it.”

He buried his nose in Harry's hair and took a deep breath :

“I missed you.”

“Did you just sniff my hair ?” Harry asked mockingly.

“Shh,” Draco commanded, nibbling at his earlobe – a bit harder than was necessary. “Keep kissing me.”

Harry didn't need to be asked twice, and was quickly relieved of his glasses as they were making their way to the bed. Draco made him sit on the sheets before grabbing his wand on the bedside cabinet – Harry was impressed by how organised he was : his own wand was buried somewhere under the pile of clothes he'd left on the floor. Draco made one move, and Harry felt his wrists being pulled back before eventually coming to rest against the headboard. The blond man shot him a carnivorous smile :

“This way I'm sure you won't try to escape me.”

“You're the one who should be restrained,” Harry protested, straightening up a bit. “I'm not the one who needs to take it easy...”

“But you really need to relax,” Draco whispered, letting his fingers slide along his torso.

He grazed his hip, sending chills all over his body, and gently wandered on the inside of his thighs. Harry felt his hot breath on his lips, but Draco's face remained out of reach, driving him mad with desire. After laughing at his failed attempts to kiss him, Draco turned his attention lower : he kissed his stomach, softly bit his nipples, and let his tongue slide towards his groin at last.

Harry understood just how much he needed to relax when he heard the relieved groan coming out of his own mouth when Draco's closed around his prick. He saw the blond head going back and forth, making him collapse on the pillows a little more with every passing minute ; it was as if he could feel the stress leaving his body with every passage of his lover's tongue.

Suddenly, Draco went up to kiss him on the lips, and Harry knew at his gestures that he couldn't wait anymore. The blond man took both of their cocks in one hand and briefly let his head fall back, sighing with satisfaction as he started moving his wrist slightly ; after a few comings and goings, he rested on Harry's chest with one hand to start slowly swaying his hips.

The sensation was exquisite, and Harry was almost thankful to the pain in his wrists for not letting him surrender to pleasure too soon – almost. With a great deal of wincing, he successfully pulled himself up to fully enjoy Draco's gestures. The latter was now holding on to the headboard with one hand and each of his movements, growing wider and more satisfying, came with an expression of intense plenitude.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” Harry repeated.

“It's less flattering when you don't have your glasses on,” Draco teased him.

Harry giggled between two breaths :

“You're blurry but beautiful,” he confirmed.

Either Draco was aroused by the compliment, either he wanted to keep Harry from speaking any more : in any case, he picked up the pace, forcing the DADA professor to remain silent if he wanted to be able to catch his breath between moans. Harry let himself sink in the familiar abyss of smoothness that was originating from his lower abdomen and was taking over him little by little, heavenly and intoxicating. He jerked his shoulders forward to try and feel Malfoy's skin against his own as he was brutally reaching orgasm ; Draco understood his silent request and pulled him against his body with both arms. He leaned towards his ear :

“I missed that too,” he whispered.

He gave him a few more seconds of hugging before sitting up.

When Harry came to his senses, Draco was getting closer to him again, playful grin on his face and cock hard. He slightly rubbed its head against Harry's lips in a particularly subtle attempt to make him understand his needs.

“Could you at least untie my hands ?” Harry asked.

“No way. You're only allowed to use your mouth,” Draco answered. “Don't worry,” he added seeing his lover's sceptical look, “it won't take long.”

He looked pretty smug, and Harry enjoyed very much wiping the smirk off his face with a tongue stroke just below the head of his cock, where he knew the other man was particularly sensitive.

“Fuck,” Draco puffed as Harry was disappearing his whole prick by extending his neck as far as possible.

The endeavour was challenging, but Draco hadn't lied : it didn't take more than three minutes for his breathing to become erratic, rapid, and make him pant so much that his swearing became unintelligible. Harry was waiting for the final explosion but Draco suddenly pulled out, took himself in hand and came all over Harry's chest with a hoarse roar instead.

“Mind giving me a heads-up next time ?” the former Gryffindor criticised, looking at the mess once he was done.

“Don't pout,” Draco said, wiping him down quickly before freeing him from the constraint charm. “At least now I can kiss you.”

Harry still wasn't thrilled about not being consulted on the turn of events, but he couldn't refute the quality of this argument.

Plus, he'd been the last one to reach the bedroom : he was formally obligated to bear with Draco, crappy mood and all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (No shade to Dan Brown, Draco is just a literary snob ^^)


	12. Noted

 

The following Sunday, Harry was feeling blue. He was staring at his parents' portrait in the living room, lost in thought.

“I think it's best if you leave it here,” Draco startled him, sneaking up behind him.

“What ?”

“The portrait,” the Charms professor specified. “I'd rather it wasn't in your room at Hogwarts : there are some things I want to do to you there and an audience would make it particularly awkward.”

He'd whispered the last sentence in his ear, but James winked at them knowingly – and it was indeed extremely embarrassing. Draco had a point : Harry didn't want that anywhere near his bedroom.

“You're right,” he admitted. “Plus, they belong here. If anyone had told them they'd have a place of honour in the _Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_ someday...”

“Padfoot would have loved that,” James confirmed, laughing.

“Sirius would have burned this house to the ground long before they had a chance of refurbishing it,” Lily noted.

“Yeah, you may be right.”

Harry left his parents to their conversation to turn to Draco. He was ready to leave, cloak on the shoulders and suitcase in hand.

“Are you ready ?” He asked.

“I guess so,” Harry sighed.

He'd never been so unenthusiastic at the prospect of going back to Hogwarts. They'd only spent two days at Grimmauld Place since they got back from St Mungo's, and they had been quite busy : they'd been allowed to visit Andromeda and Teddy the day before to reassure them about Draco's well-being, and Ron and Hermione had then spent the night at their place.

 

Harry had been afraid the couples dinner would be awkward, but he was pleasantly surprised by how things turned out : by the time Hermione had told Draco in details how Shae and her had defended their case at the Ministry, they were already getting to the main course. It was weird to see them both being so passionate about the same matter. Of course, it wasn't that surprising when Harry thought about it : even if they had different values, they both had that nerdy side that pushed them to study at length any subject they might be interested in. Once set on the same matter, they were unstoppable. So much so that Ron ended up making it clear that he didn't completely agree with this new collusion : he already had to put up with Ministry talk between his father, Percy and Hermione at every family reunion, he was hoping for a truce when they were with friends. Harry, for one, didn't care one bit about the topic : he spent the evening with Rose on his lap, pretending to listen to the conversation while making her laugh with big deals of funny faces. He was almost disappointed when it was time to put her to bed and come back to the grown-ups world : luckily, in the meantime, everyone had drank a little more than was reasonable and the grown-ups world had somewhat lost its seriousness.

An uneventful evening had been more than welcome : there had been numerous attacks after Draco's, and they weren't all as lucky as he'd been. Three days earlier, Gregory Goyle had been found dead, a drop of water engraved in his hand. Draco hadn't shown any emotion when he'd heard the news. Several other murders and assaults had been reported, but Harry didn't know any other victim in person – they were all former Slytherins ; none of them had the Dark Mark on their forearm.

 

Harry went around the house one last time to check that every protective charm was working properly. Draco urged him to hurry as soon as he'd come back in the living room with his suitcase :

“Come on ! We're going to miss the Sorting Ceremony if you keep dragging !”

“No we're not, _I'm_ in charge of the Ceremony,” Harry reminded him.

“You're right, where would they find a replacement for The Chosen One ?” Draco taunted him.

“You've always been bad at hiding your jealousy,” Harry teased him while throwing a fistful of Floo Powder in the fireplace.

That gesture made him a little sad : he was usually taking the Hogwarts Express on September 1st  ; he liked to sit each year in the train that'd brought him towards his new life fifteen years prior. This year, however, the security measures taken by the Aurors to protect Draco had him change his plans : a secured Floo liaison had been opened for a few hours between 12, Grimmauld Place and McGonagall's office. The headmistress could have been annoyed by these changes that were disturbing the course of the Ceremony, but she took to heart Draco's security, as well as the students' whose families were being targeted by Aguamenti – who'd also been offered that protection by the Ministry.

The greetings were odd, to say the least : Minerva, usually so stoical, looked highly agitated. When Draco stepped in her office, about two seconds after Harry did, she put a protective hand on his shoulder before taking it back without a word. Harry cringed at this sight : no one knew how to react around him after the attack that had made the front page only two weeks earlier. Visibly uncomfortable, the headmistress did what she did best – she ordered them around :

“Let's hurry, chop chop ! The first carriages arrived already !”

The two professors didn't wait to be told twice ; at the bottom of the office's stairs, they went past a small group of students who'd probably arrived by Floo Network just before them. They all looked tired and worried, and Harry wondered if they had doubts about the security provided by the school or if they were thinking about their families who were still out there. Everything about that reminded him of his sixth year at Hogwarts, after Voldemort's return had been made public – how did they get to that point ?

 

Wandering in the school's hallways again made Harry feel a tad better, but he felt a weight on his stomach as the Great Hall drew closer.

“Go ahead,” he told Draco half-heartedly. “I have to wait for the first years.”

He looked at the Charms professor as he entered the hall where most of the students had already gathered – he didn't know how Draco succeeded in staying calm. Harry knew that Draco was used to the indiscreet whispers and loaded side-looks that often followed him in his path, but he'd also observed after Lucius's passing that gestures of sympathy and pity stares were beyond his breaking point.

Yet, since he'd been out of St Mungo's, he hadn't shown the slightest sign of irritation ; Harry had been watching him in silence for three days, wondering when his boyfriend would ultimately lose control. But Draco crossed the hall with dignity, impervious to the attention he was receiving in spite of himself, and even laughed when he was drawn in a rough hug from a Neville who was obviously relieved to see him in one piece.

To a lot of people, Draco's behaviour was probably reassuring ; not to Harry : he knew the attack and the general climate of panic touched the former Slytherin in his very flesh, waking his deepest insecurities, and that the peaceful face he was displaying was just a facade – and everything Draco internalised had a tendency of coming out with the power of a Blasting Curse in the teeth.

 

The Sorting Ceremony allowed Harry to go back to normal : a timeless ritual that was noisy enough to keep him from thinking too much. The Slytherin table was less and less crowded each year, but what they didn't have in numbers they compensated in loudness every time a student was picked by The Sorting Hat to join them ; Harry even suspected the boldest of them were using _Sonorus_ , but if the headmistress let them alone he supposed it was acceptable to him too. That being said, Minerva didn't seem to be entirely there ; she clapped distractedly from time to time and didn't say a word during the whole meal.

When she stood up for the welcoming speech, the room suddenly went quiet, as if frozen by the solemnity that was written all over her face :

“Welcome to all,” she announced. “Now that we are all satiated, and like every year, I'd like to say a few words. First, and by demand of our caretaker, Mr Filch, I'd like to remind you that all products from _Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes_ are prohibited within the school grounds. Furthermore, you are strictly forbidden from practising magic in the hallways between classes” - she shot an accusing look at the Slytherin table - “and from venturing into the forest” - this time, she was aiming at Gryffindor.

“Besides, I'm happy to announce that the teaching staff will remain exactly the same as last year's. On that matter, I'd like to thank professor Malfoy for coming back to us after the recent hardship he went through, and to assure him of all of his colleagues' support during these troubled times.”

“Which brings me to the most important. It was inconceivable for me not to talk about the extremely alarming situation we have been facing for a few months. I would like to talk to you about Aguamenti. I don't think I'm mistaken if I say that most of us here have lost loved ones during the most recent wars. Aguamenti claims to be the solution to our problems, but don't let them fool you : those who, today, wish for the death of so-called “Pure-Blood families” - even if I disprove this term – are no better than those who, yesterday, persecuted Muggle-borns. These are still the same precarious theories that gave birth to all of the gravest wizarding conflicts of the past century, and it's this school's duty to educate you enough to keep you from falling for nice words and promises of primitive revenge. Let us not allow the slaughter to start again. Deciding of our value based on our genealogy has never served any purpose other than dividing us ; the only sustainable solution is unity. If you go out of this school at the end of the year having learnt just one thing, may it be this one.”

“That being said, I wish you a studious and quiet school year – I never had such a year since I started teaching here, but feel free to surprise me. Your prefects will now guide you to your respective dormitories.”

 

A chilling silence followed the speech ; it went a long way from the usual “ _Welcome, don't go in the forest, cheer for your new professors !”_. The prefects eventually collected themselves and, as they were trying to gather the first year students, the professors stood up in turn. Draco seemed to be in a rush to leave the Hall. 

_“_ Are you going to be all right ?” Harry asked.

He'd noticed the blond man had spent the whole speech staring at his knees as if he wanted to shrivel in there completely.

“I could have done without the additional attention,” he said coldly. “Oh no, what now ?” He grumbled when he saw a second year Hufflepuff approaching – McDowd ? McDonald ? Harry couldn't remember her name.

“Professor Malfoy ?” She asked shyly.

“Yes ?” Draco answered way more sharply than was necessary.

The student (McDaniel ?) answered to her shoes :

“I... I didn't want to bother you with a letter when you were in the hospital, but... I'm glad you're back. The picture they put in the papers, it was... Well, I'm happy to see you again. We made that in the train.”

She gave him a handmade card with supportive messages from at least a dozen students.

“Thank you, Miss McDougall,” the Charms professor answered calmly. “It's very kind of you. Head back to your dormitory, now. I'll see you in class later this week.”

Harry looked at the student as she was walking away, ready to berate Draco for his lack of kindness, when he saw the latter's eyes.

“You're trying not to cry, aren't you ?”

“No I'm not ! Shut up, Potter !”

“Come on, I'll walk you back to your room...” Harry offered, suppressing a smile.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

Life at Hogwarts was returning to normal, slowly but surely. It was almost unreal to Draco, coming back here after the summer he'd had with Harry. Within two months he'd known gloom, euphoria, appeasement, anguish, happiness – or, at least, something that felt exactly like it – and horror. Coming back to the castle's normalcy was quite brutal.

He could see it was hard on the DADA professor, too : he always seemed on edge, ready to counter a surprise attack or flush out imaginary Aguamenti members behind the hallways' armours at any time. Draco often caught him staring at him, or keeping his ears open to listen to his conversations too... It used to be cute back when they were flirting, but it was not as innocent anymore ; it was taking a creepy turn, like he expected Draco to be part of the conspiracy to murder himself. The latter was doing everything he could to avoid worrying Harry any more, and he was getting tired of that paranoia that was slowly taking over their relationship.

 

It had taken more than a week for their colleagues to dare discuss the fundraiser's events. On a lunch break, in the staffroom, a small group had gathered around Draco to ask him about the attack :

“It was impressive,” the Transfiguration professor eventually said. “When I saw the pictures in the newspapers I thought you might never get back up...”

“Oh, please,” Draco bragged, “it will take more than a ridiculous muggle weapon to get rid of me !”

After that, he barely had time to see Harry storm out of the room before he heard the door slam loudly.

“Excuse me,” he said as he went after him.

He found the former Gryffindor pacing angrily outside the castle.

“What's the matter with you ?” He asked, puzzled.

“With _me_ ?” Harry exploded. “What's the matter with you ?? Hell, you were still in a coma two weeks ago and now you're acting like it was nothing ?!”

Draco took a step back as if physically hit by his partner's wrath.

“You do know I survived, right ?” He tried to rationalise.

Harry shot him a murderous look that made Draco search for his wand instinctively – _you never know_ , his subconscious seemed to tell him.

“Easy for you to say,” the other man hissed. “You're not the one who thought you weren't going to make it every bloody second of every bloody day for _ten fucking days_ !”

“Excuse me ?!” Draco jumped. “I don't recall you being the main target of a fucking terrorist organisation. Being the one who has to read everyday about people you shared dorms with for seven years being found dead, just because they had the misfortune of being sorted into Slytherin. The one who can barely stand being surrounded by more than four people, because your brain sends you distress signals every time it thinks you're in a crowd again...”

“Why are you only telling me this now ?” Harry wondered. “Why do you act like nothing even happened ?”

“Because it's how I survive, okay ? If I say often enough that it's not a big deal and that everything's all right, maybe I'll manage to convince myself. And you, too. Because right now I'm terrified, and you acting like my bloody bodyguard doesn't help.”

Harry wrapped his arms around him and pulled him towards his shoulder :

“I'm sorry... I didn't realise. Is that true, about the crowds ?” He added, stepping back a bit after a few seconds.

“Yes,” Draco confessed. “Since we've been back, I have trouble staying in a crowded room. As soon as there're people behind my back I get nervous.”

Harry stared at him in silence.

“Stop pitying me,” Draco lost patience, pushing him back softly. “I'll deal with it with my therapist as soon as I'm allowed to get out of here. In the meantime, can we ease up on the paranoia ? We're at Hogwarts, nothing will happen to us.”

 

 

Draco could have struck himself. Claiming that nothing will happen is like challenging bad luck. If he'd learnt one thing from life, it was that it's always when you think you're safe that you get caught off guard by a Cruciatus. He'd been bold enough to think he was safe for two weeks, and he was already receiving the backlash.

Well, he was receiving a letter. Which, in that particular case, was worse.

He'd made a habit of checking his mail with a few spells before opening it to make sure nothing was hexed – the Ministry didn't have the resources to check every one of Aguamenti's target's mail indefinitely, and he'd rather the Aurors kept their noses out of his business.

But the letter he received this Saturday was more painful than a curse. He'd read two lines of the eerily familiar handwriting before he realised, horrified, what it was :

 

“ _Father,_

_I probably lost the right to call you so. I don't know why I persist in writing to you, but I believe..._ ”

 

Draco stopped reading there. This was _his_ handwriting. Those were _his_ words. His hand began trembling.

“What's...” Harry's voice in his ear startled him. “What is this ? Draco ?” He repeated to bring the blond man back on Earth.

Draco handed him the piece of paper without a word. Harry had to read half the letter before incomprehension let place to disgust on his face.

“Is... Is that one of the letters you sent to your father in jail ?”

“Yes,” Draco confirmed. “Well, no,” he corrected, still in shock. “It's one of those I _didn't_ send. Those I kept in my journal...”

“Someone was in your room ?” The former Gryffindor became alarmed. “It's impossible, it's...”

“No one came in here,” Draco cut him off.

He could feel the stupor turning to rage in the pit of his stomach ; he was having trouble controlling the volume of his voice :

“I've not had these letters with me in months. I put them all in my father's coffin before he was buried...”

 

 

Paradoxically, Weasley seemed to think Aguamenti's latest provocation was a good news :

“They're trying to get to you on a psychological level. It means that they don't know how to get to you physically anymore. It's a good sign : they can't – or won't – infiltrate Hogwarts.”

“They exhumed my father's body !” Draco shouted at the ginger's stupid face that was floating in the flames of Harry's fireplace.

“I know,” the Auror sighed. “And I swear we'll get on that. But, in the meantime, you're both safe : don't leave the castle and, above all, don't respond to their provocations. They're going to try everything to get you to put yourselves in danger, don't play into it.”

“ _Don't get killed,_ noted,” Draco said sarcastically while standing up to pace in front of the fireplace.

“Thank you, Ron,” Harry added apologetically, still kneeling next to him.

“No !” Draco protested. “He'll deserve to be thanked when they finally catch those fucking terrorists !”

Harry exhaled wearily and whispered something at the hearth before he ended the conversation.

“I know it's a heavy blow,” he said, turning to face Draco, “but the Aurors are doing everything they can to help us, lashing out at Ron won't achieve anything.”

“They could do more,” Draco persisted. “They're only acting on protection, they're doing nothing to actually catch Aguamenti !”

“The last time they tried to use someone as a bait it didn't turn out so well,” Harry noted bitterly.

“They did catch the shooter,” Draco contradicted him.

“YOU ALMOST DIED !” Harry got carried away – maybe he was still slightly on edge about that.

“That may not be worse than living a half-life while waiting for Death to come at us,” the Charms professors replied tiredly.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

He already knew what had happened, but he'd still needed to come see it for himself. The graveyard was shrouded in fog, but he didn't need to see : his feet automatically led him to his destination. He slowly stepped closer to his father's grave, careful not to fall in the empty hole that now stood in place of the tombstone that'd been split in two.

The luxurious coffin was still in there, but it didn't hold anything anymore : no more letters, no more wand and, even more worrying : no more body. Next to the lid was lying the peacock feathers wreath Draco had created, half buried under the dirt, its watered colours turned off by the dust particles depositing on it for days now.

“Such a waste,” a familiar voice observed in his back.

Draco turned around slowly ; he didn't want to face the owner of that voice, but his body didn't really obey him anymore.

“You'd picked such a beautiful sepulture after abandoning me to my fate for seven years,” Lucius went on, pale hair fading in the mist and black cloak floating in a ghoulish way in spite of the absence of wind.

“No,” Draco simply said – because there was nothing else to say ; that wasn't his father. His father was dead and buried. Well, maybe not really buried anymore, but the death part was pretty irrevocable.

“Such eloquence,” Lucius mocked him with an unhumorous laugh. “You are really a credit to your education... Already in your letters your writing was showing so much flatness... I considered reading them a sheer waste of my time. Even when I was stuck in jail you were not worthy of my time,” he concluded coldly.

Draco was having trouble controlling the shivers that were mutating into violent spasms – he knew the man in front of him couldn't possibly be his father, but the rational part of his brain had apparently forgotten to tell his subconscious.

“You're not my father,” he claimed, pointing his wand at him. “Show your true face !”

Lucius – or whoever was pretending to be him – smirked :

“You already know who I am.”

Before Draco could react, his father turned into Dawkins :

“You're going to die. And your infamy with you.”

Draco started pronouncing a _Stupefy_ , but Dawkins suddenly turned into Pansy Parkinson :

“It's all you deserve after all. You're the guiltiest of us all.”

The Charms professor's arm flinched, as much with incomprehension as with shock.

“You'll never be anything more than a Death Eater," Lucius-Dawkins-Pansy added, now wearing Weasley's features.

The transformations kept going, more and more rapid, more and more disturbing, until Draco's interlocutor eventually looked like Harry :

“What did you think ?” He asked in a spiteful voice. “There never was a happy ending planned for you.”

A green lightning zigzagged towards Draco's chest.

He fell backwards in the wide open tomb, hanging in mid-air for a few seconds before the impact.

 

He opened his eyes the second he violently hit the ground ; it took him a few heartbeats to realise he was in complete darkness, covered in sweat and desperately trying to regain his breath.

“Draco !” Potter called him – he flinched at the sound of his voice. “It's just a dream. Everything's all right,” he reassured him, pulling him towards his chest. “It's all right.”

Draco let him stroke his hair while he recovered his breath – and his senses.

“You killed me,” he accused eventually.

“Huh ?” Harry asked sleepily.

“In my nightmare. You killed me,” the Charms professor repeated, straightening up on one elbow.

His eyes were getting used to the darkness, and he could now make out the contours of his lover's face.

“It was just a dream,” the latter reminded him.

“Still, you could at least apologise,” Draco grumbled.

“You're being ridicul... Ouch !” Harry exclaimed when the other man pinched one of his nipples as payback. “What's your problem ?!”

Draco held up his index finger and his thumb again menacingly.

“All right, all right !” Harry yielded. “I'm sorry I killed you in a dream... I promise I won't do it again,” he added in a jaded voice.

“You're just saying that,” Draco grunted. “We'll see.”

 

He wouldn't tell him about the rest of his nightmare – he was not ready to bring his father back to life, even if just with words.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

The following weeks were hard on Draco's nerves – no going out, no progress on the Aguamenti case, and a new letter every day. He was weary of this permanent state of siege, despite the fact that Harry did everything he could to take his mind off things. He was thankful for that, all the more so as he could see that the DADA professor didn't welcome the confinement very serenely either – he'd never tell him, of course, but he was thankful.

Just when school life and students started to make the oppressive routine a little more bearable, the wizarding world shook again.

Like many bad news, that one arrived at breakfast along with The Daily Prophet.

Aguamenti had crossed another line : the Minister for Magic had been attacked the night before. “ _For his constant and systematic protection of Pure-Blood families and his refusal to acknowledge the threat posed by that caste to our society_ ,” the terrorist organisation had claimed. Shacklebolt had made it out : his former Auror reflexes had allowed him to fight back his five assaulters, but he'd been hit with a curse that'd weakened him. He'd immobilised two Aguamenti members, but the other three had fled when the Aurors had arrived. The Ministry didn't release any other information.

“Fuck,” Harry cursed when he read the news. “I need to talk to Ron.”

“No offence,” Draco noted, “but I think he's got more important things to do today.”

“Aren't you curious about who they arrested ? If Dawkins's one of them...”

“It doesn't really matter,” Draco objected : “even if he's the one in charge, there will always be other blockheads to pick up on their ideas. Look at Creevey : I don't even think he had his membership card...”

“From my experience,” Neville – who was seated next to them at the professors' table as always – intervened, “they should get in touch with you if the arrests provide any more info on the assaults you've reported. But indeed, for now, the Ministry might just be falling apart.”

“Not to mention that Weasley has to be a target now, too,” Draco stated. “And Granger even more so.”

“Ron, I can understand,” Harry said, frowning, “but why Hermione ? Because of you work on Azkaban ?”

“That, and the fact that Shacklebolt is bound to put her at the head of the Ministry pretty soon,” Draco answered casually.

“Who told you that ?” Longbottom asked, apparently surprised that the former Slytherin could be in speaking terms with the Minister.

“Doesn't take a genius to guess that : given the amount of energy needed for the position, lately especially, there's little to no chance that he's managing things from his hospital room. Granger basically single-handedly runs the Ministry already, and she's a Muggle-born : she's qualified AND she gives them the opportunity to shut up the ones accusing them of favouring Pure-Bloods.”

Harry and Neville both stared at him like he'd just grown a third eye out of nowhere.

“Sometimes I forget your brain's wired for politics,” Harry commented.

“What ? Oh, fuck you, just because I can connect more than two neurones at once doesn't mean I'm _wired_ for anything...”

His dreams about Lucius were multiplying with the growing number of letters he was receiving, which made the subject particularly sensitive for him.

He didn't want to be reminded of who his father was.

He didn't want to be reminded that, in another life, he'd probably have followed his path and risen through the ranks of the Ministry to – finally – make him proud.

Maybe Potter knew that since, for once, he didn't take advantage of the situation to tease him relentlessly. Instead, he discreetly changed the subject while grabbing his hand under the table as if to say _I know. I know and I'm sorry, and I'm here_. Or maybe his fingers were just getting cold. Draco didn't speak affection fluently, but it was definitely one of the two.

 

The following day, Hermione Granger-Weasley was appointed Acting Minister for Magic.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks ! Unfortunately, I won't be able to post the next (and last) chapter this week like planned. It'll be up next week, stay tuned !


	13. That too

 

Harry had had to fight hard to come to Godric's Hollow, this year. Draco had tried to discourage him. Ron had tried to discourage him. Even Neville had told him how stupid it was to expose himself like that.

But they didn't understand.

It'd been twenty-five years since his parents had given their lives to save his, and there was no way in hell he wasn't going to pay them tribute.

_Twenty-five years_ , he thought bitterly. They were twenty-one when they'd passed. His twenty-second birthday had been particularly hard : he was now older than his parents had ever gotten to be. He used to think that the unbearable eeriness of the situation would fade with time, but it did not. He was five years older than his parents, but he felt like he was still the lost kid they'd left on October 31st 1981.

Yet, at the same time, he felt so old... He was exhausted, worn out by years of fighting, so much so that he'd ended up hibernating in Hogwarts's warmth, for fear that the outside world would empty him of what little life force he had left.

The outside world had never been kind to him ; no sooner had he stepped one foot back in it, had he dared to dream of something new, than it'd thrown a handful of fanatics at him, putting once again everyone he cared about in danger.

So, it was between him and the world. If he had to suffer its attacks once more, let them come. He wouldn't hide this time. He'd accumulated too much anger against the Universe to let it win yet again. He'd fight for his loved ones one more time, and as long as they were all safe he was ready to take the punches.

He felt like he was losing his mind, walking towards the small church ruminating these thoughts, but it was all pretty clear to him : coming here tonight may have been putting himself at risk, but he was ready.

 

He reached the ruins of his parents' house and stopped for a moment to pay his respects. Others had come here today : wreaths made of fresh flowers were lying next to the memorial sign. Harry quickly went through the graffitis in search for new ones – maybe less supportive to him after the year's events – but nothing caught his attention. Even if they were coming at him, his detractors at least had the decency of not desecrating James and Lily's memory ; it was a start.

The sun was setting, and Harry hurried to the cemetery – he could find his parents' grave even in complete darkness, but Hogwarts's Hallowe'en Feast wouldn't wait for him eternally. He walked the small alleys to the white tomb, where he gently laid the bouquet of flowers Neville had helped him arrange. He kneeled on the carpet of wet leaves that covered the walkways, put a hand on the freezing marble and closed his eyes for a minute as he reminisced about the few memories he had of his parents – none was real, of course : he'd only ever met reflections, ghosts of what Lily and James Potter had been, but he still felt lucky to have been able to hear their voices, to feel their proud stares on him. He felt his eyelashes grow heavy under the weight of tears, and decided it was time to get back up.

He collected his thoughts and heard, for the second time since he'd set foot in the graveyard, the rustling of leaves behind him. Like earlier, he turned back, wand at the ready, but he didn't see anything this time either. Then, an idea crossed his mind out of nowhere :

“Draco ?”

No. The former Slytherin wasn't stupid enough to have followed him under the invisibility cloak... Nothing happened, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone. It was time to go home.

The shadows cast by the trees, the headstones and the monuments all seemed ready to jump him and he picked up the pace, tightening the hold on his wand. He crossed the gate and his eye caught some movement next to the church, at the foot of the closest buttress ; he cast a _Lumos_ in that direction and a ball of rage formed in the pit of his stomach when he saw the hooded figure that was holding him at wandpoint there :

“Will you leave me alone already ?!”

He was about to cast an _Expelliarmus_ when a voice rose in his back :

“I wouldn't do that if I were you. You're outnumbered, Mr Potter.”

At these words, he saw other figures emerging from the darkness they'd been hiding in. Six, maybe more, for every time he turned in a direction it felt like other shadows were appearing out of his line of sight.

“Now, put your wand on the floor,” the man behind him ordered – he seemed to be the one in charge.

“Why would I do that ?” Harry scoffed. “If I have to die tonight, at least I'll die standing.”

“Always so theatrical,” the man commented – Harry was pretty sure it was Dawkins. “But we don't intend to kill you. Not until we took hold of your own personal Death Eater, anyway.”

“Do you even hear how ridiculous you sound ?” Harry retorted, trying to buy some time – for what, he didn't know : the streets were empty, it wasn't like someone would be coming to his rescue if he just waited five more minutes.

But, suddenly, fighting noises were heard around him. By the time he'd spotted where it came from, two hooded figures were lying on the ground, unconscious, on his right.

“ _Homenum Revelio_ !” Dawkins shouted. “There !” He pointed triumphantly at the obscurity.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Harry successfully immobilised one more Aguamenti member, but as he was trying to spot Dawkins to neutralise him once and for all his heart skipped a beat : the large man – his torn hood leaving no doubt on his identity – was holding his invisibility cloak in one hand. Harry could have recognised the way it reflected the lampposts' light anywhere. With his other hand, he was pushing his wand against Draco's throat – the latter's bloodied nose lead Harry to guess he'd not let himself be caught that easily. His wand was lying uselessly on the floor.

_No, no, no, no, NO !_ Harry screamed internally. He met Draco's eyes, who didn't even have the common decency of looking scared or sorry : he knew he was walking into a trap, and he'd done it anyway. When had he become so Gryffindoresque ? Before Harry had time to do anything, a woman's voice just next to his ear startled him :

“Now, drop your wand.”

He felt a cold object being pressed on his back, and his instinct told him it wasn't her wand – the success of the gun attack on Draco had apparently given them a few ideas.

“Not as long as he's pointing his on Draco,” Harry defied her.

Other figures were aiming at Draco, but Dawkins was the one Harry really worried about : he was wanted by the Aurors, had no job anymore, his wife was still held by the Ministry after the Soho attack... And Harry knew that the most dangerous people were the ones that had nothing left to lose.

“This is not a negotiation !” The woman got angry – her voice sounded familiar, like it belonged to someone he'd known in another life.

“It's about to become one,” a loud voice answered in front of them. “Freeze !”

With a quite relative relief, knowing that Draco and himself still had weapons held to them, Harry saw Ron stepping closer along with Khan and two other Aurors whose names he didn't know. The Head of the Auror Department sent a shower of sparks in the air to act as spotlights on the dark silhouettes.

“It's about bloody time,” Draco growled in a nasal voice – there was a strong possibility his nose was broken.

“We would have been more effective had you not come here to play hostage,” Ron retorted, obviously upset.

Aguamenti wasn't impressed : gripping Draco against him, Dawkins turned slowly towards the Aurors, not lowering his wand nor showing the smallest sign of capitulation. The woman behind Harry did the same, moving her gun to his head. The other masked blockheads aimed directly at the Aurors.

“Lower your wands,” Ron commanded. “And your weapons,” he added upon noticing the gun pointed at Harry.

“Since we have everything we came for, I think we'll pass,” Dawkins objected.

“We'll stop you before you have time to try anything,” Khan warned him with a stone face.

“Granted, not many people care about the fate of a Death Eater, but it feels like it wouldn't be great for your public image if The Chosen One was killed during one of your interventions... You won't do anything as long as he's on the other side of Doxy's barrel.”

Harry knew this was true, partly at least – he really hoped Ron wouldn't allow Draco to be hurt either, but he couldn't say for sure if the other three were as trustworthy as he was. He cursed himself for having been this easy to sneak up on. If only he could overpower his assailant...

“And, believe me, I'm not about to let him go,” the latter confirmed.

_That voice_... He started thinking. Distant images were coming back to him, images of flying and celebrations.

“Katie,” he murmured.

He felt the woman stiffening behind him.

“Why are you doing this ?” He asked louder. “The Katie Bell I knew would never have sunk this low.”

“Shut up !” She ordered in a trembling voice. “You don't know what you're talking about !”

It was all Harry was waiting for : taking advantage of Katie/Doxy's stupor – and praying that she wouldn't dare shoot him – he violently threw his upper body backward, hitting her nose with the back of his head. What he hadn't planned were all the stares directed at him, and the hexes that came flying right after he'd freed himself from the woman's grip. He managed to send some of them back, but soon a jinx hit his thigh, making him flinch with pain. He leant against the church's wall, but it was too late : standing still, he was too easy a target.

When he turned back to face Aguamenti, he realised his actions had triggered a chain reaction : the Aurors had opened fire, and the hooded pricks had retaliated ; an Auror was lying on the ground, and Khan had tied up two fanatics at her feet – that woman was intimidating : she wasn't even out of breath. Ron and Dawkins were the only ones that hadn't moved : they were still facing each other, separated by Draco who was used as a human shield by Aguamenti's leader.

Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, Harry hadn't succeeded in snatching Katie Bell's gun, and she was now pointing it between his eyes. She'd taken her hood off, probably to check on her nose – that was nastily swollen – and was glowering at him.

“Drop your weapon !” Auror Khan repeated for her.

“Never,” Katie answered, not looking away from Harry. “Jarvey, they know who I am, we can't let them live.”

“Katie !” Harry exclaimed, outraged. “What the hell happened to you ?!”

“What happened to me ? HE ALMOST KILLED ME !” She exploded, pointing at Draco with a sign of her head. “And now the whole world's protecting him ?! Hell no !”

“But... It happened _ten years ago_ !” Harry protested, dumbfounded. “I agree, it was horrible, but he explained himself ! He was judged for that !”

“Is that supposed to excuse anything ?” She shouted. “Harry, I don't know what he did to you, but...”

“Don't waste your time,” Dawkins intervened, his eyes still on Ron. “He's completely out of whack.”

“Yeah, sure, _I'm_ the one who's spaced out,” Harry said sarcastically.

At that exact moment, Draco burst out laughing. Harry thought again about what he'd just said, but there was definitely nothing there worthy of that reaction. _That's it_ , he said to himself, _he finally lost it_. Katie too looked confused, and she unfixed her attention from Harry to stare at his boyfriend.

“What's the fucking matter with you ?” Dawkins asked, tightening his grip around his throat.

“It's not you,” the former Slytherin explained between sinister laughs. “I'm just amazed at what can be achieved with only a few drops of Amortentia every day. You can even make The Chosen One fight against his own side ! Look at that, he even convinced the bloody Ministry on the way ! Even in my wildest dreams I never imagined it would work that well. Honestly, you'd do him a favour by shooting him tonight : as soon as the potion's effects wear off he'll want to fucking kill himself for everything I had him do in the past few months...”

Harry didn't understand where he was going with his horseshit, but he was scaring him :

“Draco,” he cut him off, “what are you...”

But he didn't finish his sentence : he saw Ron in the back, staring at him with wide eyes. As no one else was paying any attention to him, he briefly shook his head to make Harry understand he should not intervene.

“You were just too stupid to realise,” Draco went on, turning his head to look at him. “Didn't it ever seem weird to you, us getting together overnight like that ?! I really don't get how you can be a role model for so many people...”

“Don't fuck with us !” Dawkins shook him. “You were in a coma, smart-ass, are you trying to make us believe he kept on drinking your little potion on his own ?”

“My mother,” Draco answered immediately. “She brought him a cup of coffee every morning.”

Harry's brain spun in his skull two or three times, leaving him quite light-headed. His partner hadn't even stopped a second to think. His lying skills, as morally reprehensible as they were, were also frankly impressive.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH !” Ron screamed suddenly, lowering his wand at Draco.

Like the Head of the Department specialised in fighting the darkest of mages that he was, he hit him with... a Jelly-Legs Jinx ? The Charms professor's knees started trembling before they completely stopped supporting his weight.

Harry was relieved that his best friend wasn't more violent, but the gap between the anger that could be read on his face and the immaturity of the spell was surprising, to say the least – what was he playing at ?

He got sort of an answer when he saw Draco collapse on the floor : Dawkins, surprised by the turn of events, didn't even try to keep a grasp on his hostage, and Draco was able to discreetly pick up his wand at his feet.

Snapping out of his stupor when he realised that absolutely everybody had their eyes on the action, Harry managed to disarm Katie before she remembered he existed. Ignoring the spells coming from all sides again, he petrified her before he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Draco roll on the ground and look up triumphantly at his bully. His freshly retrieved wand sent a jinx towards the former Auror, who raised a protective shield just in time. The hex Ron sent in the split second after that, however, hit Dawkins right in the chest, sending him fly backwards several feet.

The remaining members of Aguamenti tried to fight back, but Khan and the other Auror got them without breaking a sweat, confirming what Harry had already observed during their previous confrontations : these fanatics were vicious, but most of them weren't worth shit in a fair fight.

 

Since the situation was under control, he headed towards Draco. Ron had lifted the Jinx and was offering to help him up ; the former Slytherin gauged the hand he was offering him for a few moments before he grabbed it, a bit more brutally than was necessary, to get back on his feet. When Ron spotted Harry, he patted the blond man's shoulder encouragingly and walked away to take stock of the situation with his Aurors.

“I have so many questions,” Harry stammered, still in shock.

But, before he could ask a single one of them, Draco had pulled him in a hug.

“It's all I could come up with to distract them,” he whispered in his hair. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

“It doesn't answer any of my questions,” Harry reproached him, pushing him back slightly. “Start at the beginning, will you ? What are you doing here ?”

Draco frowned a little, but he eventually complied :

“I asked Weasley to come. I knew Aguamenti would try to attack you.”

Harry could feel the panic knot that was tying his throat starting to loosen, leaving a taste of fear and bitterness in his mouth on the way.

“What about you ? What are _you_ doing here ?” He started to rant. “You told yourself _hey, I'm bored tonight, what if I just gave myself up to the blokes that want to kill me ?_ Is that it ?”

“You know it would be quicker if you didn't interrupt me every two seconds to scold me, right ?”

Harry didn't answer, but he pointed his wand at Draco's nose to heal it – the resulting wince of discomfort was a pleasant bonus.

“I couldn't just stay at the castle waiting,” the blond man went on while rubbing his nose as if to check Harry hadn't changed its shape in revenge. “And when I saw Weasley was not intervening when the hooded cunts attacked you, I panicked. I thought I could get more of them before they spotted me, but that piece of shite was prepared. I didn't exactly plan what happened next...”

“You almost got killed with your bullshit...”

“ _You_ almost got killed, Harry. Making them believe you could join their cause was the only way to get them to doubt. Dawkins already thought I tricked you, it was safer to tell him what he wanted to hear.”

The DADA professor was unable to calm down :

“By giving them one more reason to come after you ? And by confusing the Aurors as well ?!”

“Listen to me, Potter,” Draco said calmly, cupping his face with both hands. “To say I made mistakes in my life would be an understatement. But if there's one thing I know for sure I'll never come to regret, it's trying everything in my power to keep you alive.”

He laid a kiss on his forehead before turning around and, as Harry was watching him walk away, not really knowing if he was upset or moved anymore, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

 

“Are you all right ?”

Ron awkwardly handed him his invisibility cloak, and Harry had the strong impression that he'd heard the whole conversation.

“Yeah, I'm gonna be fine. I just need to calm down.”

Behind them, Khan and the two other Aurors were gathering the hooded figures to bring them to the Ministry.

“I think that's it, this time,” Ron commented. “We didn't witness anyone fleeing the scene... I think we finally arrested the hard core of Aguamenti. We'll need some time to make sure none of them is still running free, but I'm confident : you guys will be good very soon.”

Harry's gaze unconsciously drifted towards his boyfriend pacing in front of the graveyard, away from the light cast by the sparks still floating above their heads.

“He was really worried, you know,” Ron explained. “He'd made me promise we'd be here tonight. I didn't think he'd come, knowing how risky it was for him... I think Gryffindor's rubbing off on him.”

Harry looked at him knowingly, smirking ; if there was anything Ron excelled at, it was lightening the mood without meaning to.

“Ew ! No ! That's not what I meant,” he tried to correct, turning redder than Katie Bell's busted nose. “You're so gross...”

“How did you know ?” Harry asked, suddenly serious again.

“That you're gross ?”

“Not that, you twat. How did you know he was bluffing ?”

The question appeared to make Ron even more uncomfortable than his involuntary innuendo :

“I happened to see the two of you together and, contrary to popular belief, I have more than two neurones. Don't get me wrong : he's still a cunt most of the time. But he tries hard. If he had a potion that guarantees you never leave him, he wouldn't bother making so much fucking effort for you... That, and the fact that a year ago you wouldn't even have accepted a bezoar from him if you were dying from poisoning.”

Harry stifled a laugh and thought about his answer for a moment :

“I think your wife's rubbing off on you too,” he said with a smile. “If I'd been told one day you'd be defending Malfoy...”

“Before you go repeating that to him, don't forget I have access to pretty effective means to make you disappear...”

“Got it,” the DADA professor laughed, hugging him briefly. “Thanks, Ron.”

 

With these words, Harry walked to Draco, who seemed determined to cover the Earth-Moon distance by walking back and forth along the graveyard.

“I'm sorry,” Harry told him, grabbing his hand to stop his wandering. “I was scared for you, but I shouldn't have gotten angry.”

“I was scared too,” Draco answered. “You could have died just because you're with me...”

“No. We could have both died because a handful of crackpots decided to kill arbitrarily...”

“It doesn't matter, that's not my point. Things aren't going so well for me in the popularity department already, just imagine if I got Saint Potter killed ! There would not have been a single place on the whole damn planet where I would've been safe from your fan club...”

Harry stared at him unimpressed, but the playful smirk that crossed the blond man's face quickly got the better of his seriousness.

“You're such a prick,” he said, drawing him in an embrace.

“You love me this way,” Draco retorted in his hair. “Do you think it's over ?” He asked as he stepped back from the hug a few seconds later.

Harry was about to ask what he was talking about when he noticed that he was staring at the members of Aguamenti rounded up by the Aurors.

“Ron says it's possible,” he said, taking Draco's hand back between his own. “But I think we'll all need some time to be sure.”

“If someone had told me that one day my wildest dream would be to walk along Diagon Alley without having to look over my shoulder...” Draco said bitterly.

“And mine to get out of Hogwarts,” Harry answered.

“To attend a Quidditch game without being lectured by the Minister,” Draco added, wincing.

“To both live at Grimmauld Place without having to turn it into a fortress...”

“To take you to a restaurant whenever we feel like it...”

“To adopt a cat without fear of it getting kidnapped by a bunch of lunatics,” Harry offered, smiling.

“Oh, so you want a cat, now ?” Draco scoffed.

“Whatever. A normal life, that's what I want. Working at Hogwarts, living at Grimmauld Place, having drinks with mates on the weekend, inviting Teddy over for the holidays, planning events for The Light Switch in peace... And, if that's possible, I want all of this with you. And maybe with a cat, too, if you feel like it,” he added with a laugh to lighten the mood after that declaration.

Draco was looking into his eyes, and Harry regretted to have gotten carried away. They didn't discuss the future, it was an implicit rule. He knew that the blond man just couldn't see the future in a positive light ; he'd lived in the darkness for too long to be able to do so.

“I think I'd like that,” he eventually answered, cutting Harry's regrets short.

“Adopting a cat ?” The other man asked timidly to avoid rushing him.

“Yes, that too,” Draco confirmed before he kissed him softly.

 

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

**Epilogue**

 

Harry had always loved spending Christmas with the Weasleys. Everybody got together in the morning to exchange presents before sharing a meal that contained as many calories as all the other meals in the week put together ; it was a long way from the mornings at 4, Privet Drive when Harry had to set the table without a sound while Dudley opened dozens of gifts, taunting him. With most of the Weasley children starting to have children of their own, the Burrow had become too narrow to house everyone comfortably, so Ron's siblings had agreed to host it each in turn, year after year.

This year, they'd gathered at Ron and Hermione's. It wasn't their turn, but Molly had insisted on inviting Draco to join them, and the house of the Acting Minister and the Head of the Auror Department was the least hostile to him.

Things had cooled down since Hallowe'en : the attacks had ceased, providing a much needed respite to both the two professors and the Aurors, and the account of that night's events had been on everyone's lips as early as the following day. Draco's reputation among Harry's loved ones had improved significantly at the news – but, to be fair, the former Gryffindor would have preferred that his partner wouldn't've had to put his own life in danger to finally be accepted by the people close to him.

That's how all of Harry's family – the Weasleys and the Tonks – ended up in the Granger-Weasley's living room, their eyes set on Draco, waiting for him to open his presents. Harry knew that the time when he enjoyed being the centre of attention was long gone, but the blond man didn't let on his uneasiness, giving a performance that could have fooled even the DADA professor had he not witnessed how anxious he'd been that very morning. When he thought he was finally off the hook, Molly handed one last package to him :

“You may be new in the family, but you won't escape the traditions,” she said, smiling.

Draco opened the gift delicately and paused when he recognised an authentic night blue Weasley jumperTM embroidered with a golden capital “D” on the chest.

He knew exactly what that present stood for : he'd been secretly borrowing Harry's jumpers whenever he was spending time in his room for over a month now and, even if he made fun of their handcrafted aspect, he always took the greatest care of them – Harry regularly found them washed and folded at the foot of his bed, sometimes even before he realised they were gone.

Just when Harry was wondering how his boyfriend would react, Ron decided to deflect attention :

“I recommended she sewed a ferret on it, but she wouldn't listen.”

“Ronald !” Molly exclaimed, outraged.

“I mean, she's not wrong,” Ginny went on : “none of us have our portrait on our jumper...”

“Ginevra Molly Weasley ! Enough, both of you !”

Behind her, Ron burst out laughing and winked at Harry. Draco just grumbled as he was putting on the jumper :

“Hilarious, really... But if I'm being honest you should hang on to your current careers : I'm not sure comedy's really your strong suit...”

Hermione gave Ron a nudge and he cleared his throat, looking all serious again :

“Hum... Actually, I have an announcement to make.”

“You're joining clown school ?” Bill tried, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not !” Ron went red. “Well, close. Things have been quite intense lately, between overtime for the Auror Department and Mione's new responsibilities. We don't get much family time and, since Kingsley doesn't seem in a rush to come back, I'm afraid Rosie might forget what we even look like after a while.”

When she heard her name, the little girl squealed with delight in Charlie's arms.

“Well, the thing is,” Ron kept going, “I've decided to leave the Auror Department. I already gave them eight years of my life and a lot of energy, and Khan is more than qualified to take over the reins...”

Every Weasley started asking questions at the same time, but Ron didn't let that disturb him :

“It's time I focused on family business... George's workload at the shop is increasing significantly, and he offered me to join him as an associate...”

“Employee,” George corrected outright.

“As a partner,” Ron went on, annoyed.

“As an employee,” George persisted with a smirk.

“Anyway, we'll discuss the specifics later, but starting January I'll work at the shop with George.”

“ _For_ George,” the latter pointed out, grinning - but he was covered by the sound of the whole family congratulating them.

Harry was watching the scene fondly when he realised Draco was looking at him in the exact same manner.

“Thank you for being here,” the former Gryffindor told him, laying a kiss on his cheek.

“It's loud, but it's more pleasant than I would've thought,” Draco answered, taking his hand discreetly. “If they're this excited about Weasley's new job just wait until we tell them we're adopting a cat...”

“That would be too much excitement at once,” Harry answered, laughing.

 

Yes, really, Harry had always loved spending Christmas with the Weasleys. But the picture had never been as perfect as it was now that Draco was part of it.

 

 

**The End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll leave you on this (very self-indulgent) fluffy ending =)  
> Thank you so much for reading the whole thing !  
> I would absolutely love to read your thoughts on the fic, and also to answer your questions if you have some ! <3


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